Black Cat
by BlackRoseGirl666
Summary: A story following the life of Ray Kon and several others as they navigate love, betrayal, change, abuse, friendship, pain, rejection, insecurity and happiness under the ever-watching eyes of the drama-loving public. WARNINGS: Yaoi, Yuri, bigotry, physical/mental abuse and swearing. Parings: KXR, MXE, TXM, BXT, RXT
1. True Colours

Ray bit down on the inside of his cheek hard, tasting copper and not really minding so long as it kept the taste of the bitter tears running down his face out of his mouth as his feet slapped against the frigid pavement of downtown Beycity.

Picking up pace, Ray kept up his impromptu run, silently dashing around the forms of people and turning corners with dizzying speed. Rain that had been threatening to fall since early that morning drifted down around him in a light sprinkle, something that he just barely noticed.

His throat burning, Ray dashed across the street, uncaring of the minimal traffic that puttered about around him at the late hour, and turned up the next street keeping up his run right up until he finally came to a busy intersection which his instincts wouldn't allow him to speed through, even in his current state of hysterics.

His sides heaved as he waited for the sign to tell him it was good to keep going and Ray's mind, unbidden by him, started to rerun the events that had brought him to this point.

He'd gone over to the hotel that the White Tigers were staying in for the next few months in the lead up to this year's World Tournament, starting here in Beycity once again, in order to talk to them about a secret he'd been keeping since a year and a half before. He'd gone alone, telling his significant other that he'd be fine, that he trusted his team and to stop worrying so much…

Heh.

Well, that had certainly been a mistake.

Ray smirked bitterly before pushing himself into another punishing run as soon as the little electronic sign lit up with the walking man.

It was so ridiculous that four young, strong, competent people could have such...crazy ideals about his choices that they would threaten him so horribly. All he had done was tell his supposed teammates (his _supposed _fucking best-friends) about his lover, just to have it fucking thrown in his face once the stunned silence had ended.

Ray shook his head violently, his long braid whipping behind him. Why, oh, why hadn't he just listened to Kai?

The other blader was always so much better at reading people than Ray was, so much better at predicting things. He'd tried to warn Ray gently, set him up for the pain of rejection, but Ray had just smiled at him, too damn blinded by his own heart to look at things logically.

Closing his eyes, Ray let out a shaky breath and increased his speed, desperate to get out of the heart of the busy city and onto the quiet street where Kai and the other Blitzkrieg Boys were currently living in their own private apartment.

Ray laughed a little under his breath. Oh, the questions that would come up if he was seen visiting, nay, _sleeping _at the Blitzkrieg Boys' place of residence.

He could just _hear _the stories; everything from bribery to blackmail, he was sure, when really he was only heading there because that was where his boyfriend was.

Yeah, that's right. His name was Ray Kon, resident Chinese Country-Bloody-Bumpkin of World Class Beyblade, and he was gay. Deal with it.

And he wasn't just dating any guy either; he was dating Kai Hiwatari, the legendary multi-billionaire, sex-on-legs, star blader of the BBA.

Yeah, because when Ray Kon decided to screw village traditions, he _really _decided to screw village traditions.

Ray laughed breathily at the semi-sarcastic thought; as if that's what their relationship was really about…

He and Kai had come together by accident if anything else.

At the time he himself had only just thought that _perhaps_ he _might_ be leaning towards being just a _little_ bit _bi_, and he'd been plenty jumpy about people finding about _that_. He'd also been stressed about his teammates and their constant pressuring to get him to come back to the village, about the upcoming tournaments and finding out just what the hell it was he wanted to do with his life.

He hadn't been looking for a partner of _any _kind, let alone a male one.

Kai had been in a similar spot. Just a week free from the hospital after the BEGA Fiasco, as the press now kindly called it, and he was being pressured by his family's lawyers to fly back to Russia and start getting his newly inherited company back together again after his grandfather's reign of terror over it had officially ended, with the media stalking his every move.

As well as that, he'd also been busy pulling strings to get the Blitzkrieg Boys away from the foster system and emancipated just as he was; which, the red-eyed blader would admit later, after a couple shots of something he technically wasn't supposed to have, was probably the easiest part of it all.

They'd stumbled across each other by complete chance.

Ray had been sitting in a local coffee shop in Tokyo, debating if he should miss his connecting flight to China or not, when Kai had stumbled in looking half-crazed before slumping down in a chair just in time for a group of even crazier-looking media hounds to run right by.

Safe to say that had led to some questions (which Kai had, amazingly, answered) and from there one thing had just led to another until Ray had realized he had indeed missed his flight to China (though it was more of a relief than anything else) and when he'd mentioned it to Kai, the other blader had hesitantly offered to let the Neko crash at his apartment in Tokyo until he could schedule another one.

_I never did schedule that flight, _Ray thought with a smirk as he swung around another corner, the sweetness of those memories combatting the pain he'd faced tonight.

And damn did it fucking _hurt_. Nothing excused causing someone this kind of pain; not culture shock and definitely not their fucking precious _traditions_, most of which were fucking _skewed_anyway.

They'd treated him like trash tonight, like he was nothing but fucking garbage. Like he was something _dirty_.

Ray shook his head against the tears that he felt building in the corners of his eyes. Even Mariah, who he'd always had a sort of camaraderie with when it came to the strict rules of their village, had just sat there while her brother screamed his abuse at him, Kevin and Gary sitting there watching right beside her.

That'd hurt him more than anything else, their silence. At least Lee had shown he'd been hurt by the situation, the others had just sat there; as if Ray wasn't even worth their anger.

Coming to a stop in front of a moderately sized, pristine stone building at the end of the street, Ray tiredly shoved open the door; fighting to keep the tears that were trying to escape his eyes locked away until he reached the safety of his boyfriend's apartment.

Stepping into the lobby Ray saw from the clock that hung above the reception's desk that it was late, nearly twelve in the morning if he wanted to be exact. If he was lucky he'd be able to sneak into the apartment, grab something for the horrible headache he'd gotten sometime between crying bluntly and trying not to cry, and just quietly wallow for a bit before facing Kai and the others.

He should have known it wouldn't work that way.

Half way down the hallway to number 596, a luxurious penthouse apartment on the very top floor, he started to feel sick, his legs shaky and weak, which really wasn't that hard to understand. He had been running for god-knew-how-long after all and he hadn't felt all that great before that either and then the stress and the rain as well…

All in all, Ray didn't figure anyone could blame him when he passed out just minutes after knocking on his boyfriend's door, a startled cry ringing in his ears.

* * *

Kai growled lowly in his throat as his eyes caught on the still form of his boyfriend; the cool compress that he'd been wringing in his hand as he walked taking harsh abuse as he used it to funnel his rage at the situation.

Putting a cap on his anger, Kai set the bowl and cloth down on the bedside table before reaching behind him and dragging the computer chair over to the edge of the bed. Taking a seat he gently pressed the back of his hand against Ray's burning forehead, grimacing all the more when he realized the ravenette's fever hadn't gone down at all in the time he'd been gone.

Placing the cool cloth on his unconscious boyfriend's forehead, Kai gently placed a kiss on his lips before taking the Neko's hand and leaning back in the chair, content to stay like that and stew on all that had happened until either Ray woke up or Spencer sent someone to drag him to the kitchen to eat.

Sighing, Kai scanned his sleeping love; feeling guilt chew at him every second Ray lay there, his face pale beneath his tan and contrasting sharply against his midnight black hair and the dark blue bed set.

Kai _knew_ he shouldn't have let Ray go talk to those... those _traitors_ alone. He _knew_he should have gone with Ray to keep this from happening, despite what Ray said about how much he trusted them. Trust meant nothing in the face of fear; Kai knew that better than anyone.

And as much as the White Tigers stated that they were all open-minded to new techniques and all that, Kai knew that most things about the modern world still scared the crap out of them.

And what do you do with something you fear? You start to hate it, naturally.

Of course those damned Elders of theirs couldn't be of much help either. Kai had managed to weasel some truly condemning horror stories out of Ray in the past about how they "dealt" with the "corruption" of their young people.

It had started when Kai had asked why Ray wore gloves so religiously now, even though he hadn't when they'd first met. The other blader had paled and stuttered something about a climbing accident that had resulted in severe rope burns on his hands which had left some fairly noticeable scars behind.

Kai hadn't exactly bought it (something in his gut and the fact that Ray always stuttered when he lied told him his boyfriend might not have been totally honest with him), but he'd dropped it all the same; issuing the ravenette the same courtesy Ray had given him in regards to his blue triangle tattoos a few months before.

Or, he had at least, until he'd caught Ray just as he was coming out of the shower before a trip back to his village.

He'd apparently forgotten his precious red gloves when he'd grabbed his change of clothes, because when Kai had walked in he hadn't been wearing them and Kai had gotten full sight on the long, thin scars that stood out bluntly against the slightly paler skin on the backs of his hands which were usually covered by said gloves.

That had led to what would probably go down as the most awkward, emotionally tormenting conversation that would ever happen in their relationship; ending with Ray swearing not to return to his village if there was a chance that he could be hurt and Kai holding the crying Neko Jin during a string of nightmares that would happen later that night.

It had been a hard thing to get the Neko to agree to. That village was, after all, the home of Ray's dead parents, as well as where they were buried and where he'd spent his whole life until he'd run. That, and he'd been scared about how his friends would take it.

_Heh,_ Kai thought with a deep-rooted bitterness, _like that was worth worrying about._

After long, Kai had gotten him to agree though and, honestly, Kai could see it was more of a relief than it was a burden to his lover.

Despite whatever memories he'd had there, Ray had been terrified of having to go back again. The only reason he'd even kept going back in the first place was because his friends had wanted him to come visit them at their home, unknowing of the abuse Ray went through.

Ray had gone to keep them happy, silently taking the whippings to the backs of his hands and the beatings to the rest of him with a smile until Kai had finally noticed.

Looking at his ill boyfriend now, Kai couldn't help but think it had been a lot of innocent blood spilled over a whole lot of nothing.

_Or maybe not nothing,_ Kai thought dully_, just the stupidity and arrogance of a group of old 'wise' men._

Snorting quietly at the irony, Kai stared down at the now sleeping Ray; his hand silently leaving Ray's to run through the raven haired boy's longish bangs.

Kai wasn't sure he'd ever been as scared as when Tala had come barreling in from the foyer with Ray in his arms; limp, soaked and shaking. Visions of every horrible thing that had ever happened to someone he'd cared about had gone screaming through his head, leaving him feeling breathless with terror and anger.

It was a feeling that hadn't fully abated even now, with Ray right there in front of him and Spencer's diagnosis of just a fever and a bad case of exhaustion ringing in his ears.

Smiling a little, Kai placed a soft kiss on Ray's forehead once more before pulling himself up from his chair and leaving the room, planning on giving a status update to the rest of the Blitzkrieg Boys before Spencer summoned them all to the table for dinner.

_Dinner,_ Kai thought to himself with a snort, _more like a war meeting._He had very little doubt that, now that Ray was on the mend, his brothers would be able to keep the mention of revenge off the table.

Every one of his brothers-in-everything-but-blood had grown close to the Neko, accepting him like he was just another member of their mixed up little family. And rule one of the Blitzkrieg Boys was that you didn't let family get hurt without a fight.

Kai's smirk became just a little more evil as he pushed open the door to the kitchen. _Really,_ he thought as his eyes connected with Tala's icy ones, _the question isn't so much what to do next, but more so how to go about it._

* * *

When Ray awoke, it was to the scent of lilac fabric softener and a steady, beating ache that started somewhere near the pads of his feet before flowing up to the base of his skull. His eyes, which he'd quickly closed after catching the light of the sun the first time, stung and his throat was sticky and dry.

And yet still, there was a kind of peace in his vaguely dazed mind; one which he hadn't felt in years.

It was solemn, soothing kind of peace. The kind that came when you just realized that people did as they did and that there wasn't anything you could do to change it.

The last time he felt this kind of… of _freedom_, he guessed, was years ago; back when the Bladebreakers were just a ragtag bunch of underestimated rookies combing through the streets of China looking for their missing captain, only to stumble upon the White Tigers...

Ray shook his head harshly, immediately wishing he hadn't when his headache began to make itself known. Though, in the big picture, he guessed a headache didn't really matter if it meant the pain chased away his memories; ones that threatened to drown him even when he'd stopped trying to swim in them.

Stretching, Ray cracked open his tired amber eyes and glanced around the room, immediately recognizing the dark blue walls and cherry wood furniture as being that of the guestroom of the Blitzkrieg Boys' apartment, which more times than not was his.

Smiling a bit at the familiar surroundings, Ray let himself slip back below the sheets; utterly content to just rest until someone (most likely his boyfriend) came into the room to check on him, rather than climb out and go find someone. Plus there was the fact that it was rather debatable whether or not he could walk without some serious cramps right then, so…

As it turned out Ray didn't have long to wait. About ten or twenty minutes after waking up he noticed the door open with a soft click to reveal Kai, dressed in black sweats and a white tank top and looking like death himself with harsh, dark circles under his beguiling burgundy eyes and a frown on his lips.

A frown that immediately melted away once he saw that Ray was awake.

Crossing the room in three quick steps Kai pulled Ray into a hot kiss; his arms, strong and defined, locking Ray in their safety as his lips claimed him desperately.

Ray moaned, winding his arms around Kai's neck and clinging to his shoulders as the older boy blanketed him with his body. Mint and Vodka and just _Kai_ invaded his mouth in a delectable cocktail that Ray simply _could not _get enough of.

When the kiss was finally broken, Ray simply lay there breathlessly. His body was hyper-aware of Kai's and his boyfriend's eyes were smoldering as he held himself above Ray, their legs entangled.

"I was so worried…" Kai's voice whispered, his words trailing along Ray's skin desperate and hot like lava as Kai bent his head down to kiss his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Ray whispered back. So sorry he couldn't protect himself, sorry he didn't have better control, that he couldn't read people…

"Not your fault," Kai managed to bite out through the countless kisses he peppered to Ray's face and throat, "never your fault."

"I should have listened to you," Ray stated back, winding his hands in Kai's hair. "I shouldn't have gone alone, it was dumb, but I thought…" He'd thought they wouldn't hurt him. Not like this.

Kai shushed him quietly. "It's not your fault. All you did was trust. It's not your fault." Kai's voice was strong, a command that none would refute. Ray found himself nodding along with it. "Good," Kai said, quieter and softer than before, as he placed another few kisses on Ray's forehead.

"I love you," Ray said abruptly. He'd always felt it in his heart, but only recently had he felt like he'd had a right to say it, to proclaim it for others to hear.

Kai smiled at him. Small and soft and real, that little curve of his lips took undeserved age away from Kai's face; making him appear his just seventeen years instead of a grown man with a young face.

"So I suppose you don't regret us then?" Kai asked quietly, looking away from Ray's warm amber eyes.

Ray cupped his hand around Kai's cheek, his fingers brushing just below Kai's eye.

"Never."

The kiss born from that one word set them both on fire.

* * *

Kayli Ripper loved her job. As the host of the hit sports gossip show, _Behind the Cord_, not only did she get a two-million a year paycheck, but a legion of stylists and makeup artists devoted to making her look perfect, a high-ranking celebrity status, invites to all the hottest parties and a heads-up to all the latest gossip.

Kayli was a girl of simple pleasures. So long as she had her money, her makeup, her clothes and her gossip, she was happy. Men came and went and any of her free time was usually devoted to shopping, researching interesting celebrities for new leads, or gossiping with her fellow TV hosts.

That said, it was easy to understand her over-cloud-nine attitude when she came into work one morning and slapped down the hand-written letter she'd received earlier that morning on the desk of her producer, who'd taken one look at the ornate H on the old-fashioned wax seal before paling.

Kayli had just smirked, knowing that her boss was freaking out quietly without reason as he shakily opened the letter and read the first few lines.

Seconds later, a matching grin to the one of Kayli's face lit up the producer's.

"Ripper," the old-ish man grinned, "I don't know how you did it, but this is gold. Clear your schedule; I want you to have this story to me by the end of the week. And for the gods' sakes, girl," her producer snapped, eyeing her like an errant teenager, "I had better not hear from Hiwatari about any harassment issues after he dropped this into our laps! Hell, if anything we should be sending him and his Mr. Kon muffin baskets!"

Kayli frowned, that might be hard. Her usual routes of 'information gathering' weren't the most… subtle, you could say.

But, with all the drama in this story it would likely be the thing to make her career!

And besides, Kai Hiwatari and Ray Kon had to be the hottest pairing she'd seen in years! Oh, wouldn't the girls at her Yaoi Appreciation Club be jealous when she told them she actually got a real, _legal_ interview with them? And after all, they _had _sent her that letter… perhaps they'd be willing to be cooperative?

Nodding to herself firmly she tossed her boss a quick "you got it" before scooping up her letter and racing out of the building and jumping into her expensive, pink Italian car; dialing her assistant as she went.

After finishing up giving out her orders, Kayli grinned.

A dramatic secret relationship, a verbal hate attack given by close friends ending with medical problems and one of the favourites for taking the BBA Championship Crown withdrawing from the tournament; and she was covering it! It was like Christmas and her birthday and the Grammies had come all wrapped up in one!

They would be talking about this for _years_. And who would they be thanking for giving them the lowdown on it all? Why her, Kayli Ripper, of course! Why, she could like, wind up getting one of those award thingies for this story!

Oh, it just made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside!

And with images of golden trophies and fancy dresses dancing in her head, Kayli proceeded to drive; completely aware of the dramatic hell she was about to unleash and absolutely giddy at the thought of it.

* * *

**Well, I hope you all like this new, longer, fluffier and all around better first chapter of Black Cat! I absolutely hated the old beginning of this story so I figured I'd redo it while I wait for some more inspiration for the next chapter! Hope you all like this one better than the old one! And please, no one bite me about Kayli, I was just using her as a way to show the revenge the Blitz Boys and Ray decided to go with, you won't (likely) be seeing her again.**

**As well as that, no offence meant to anyone from a little village in China or anywhere else. I get it that my description probably isn't accurate, but that's just the way it is in this story. My sincere apologies if you're offended, but I won't be changing it and just a head's up, it's likely just going to get worse from here on out. **

**Also no offence to the media; I guess not all of you are hounds like Kayli ;)**

**Please Review (and tell me what pairings you'd like to see! No guarantee it'll get in but I'm always looking for new ships!)! **

**Bye!**  
**Sincerely, **

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	2. Blitzkrieg Redeux

**(13 months later)**

Tyson grinned and waved wildly at the roaring crowds, blowing kisses and flexing his muscles comically for the flailing fan-girls who were pretty much hanging out of the stands in their anxiousness to get close to him.

Beside him his boyfriend of a year, Max Tate, just grinned and shook his head; too used to his best friend-turned-boyfriend's antics to get upset with him like most people would expect. The rest of their team, the newly-formed-as-of-the-year-before All-Star League (representing America even though Tyson was Japanese because of the lack of an official Japanese team) sat behind him and his boyfriend, watching in amusement as Tyson played up the crowd.

All around him placed a strategic few feet apart along the edge of the stadium were the other Championship Teams, plus a few rookie ones that had to get through in order to even things out. They all sat in their own little dug-out-like seating boxes with the dish in the center of the stadium floor on a large, raised dais.

From the moveable platform suspended in the air DJ Jazzman was rattling things off about how this year's event would work, the teams participating and their statistics as well as going over and replaying some of the more interesting footage from the preliminaries on the big flat screens attached to the walls behind him.

Brad Best and AJ Topper were nattering back and forth to each other and the audience, and generally keeping things interesting, as everyone waited with bated breath for the arrival of the last team; the Blitzkrieg Boys.

It seemed that everyone wanted a piece of them; especially since that TV show did that showcase on them explaining why they'd pulled out of the last year's competition. It had blindsided the entire community and left them all with their jaws on the floor, both at the fact that someone could hurt Ray like that and that it was one of their own teams who had done it.

Say what you will about the corruption and rivalry that seemed to be so deeply imbedded into the world of beyblade, but since the happenings of the BEGA Fiasco two years ago, when they'd all pulled together to save their sport, the teams of the world had become a very close knit group.

Knowing that a team like the White Tigers, who'd always been on the "good side," if you wanted to slice it like that, had hurt Ray, the proverbial peacekeeper of beyblade, over something as trivial as who he'd fallen in love with had been something that had shaken them all.

By nature bladers were a pretty accepting group. How could you not be when you were living in a new place every other week with new people? If you couldn't roll with the social punches then how could you expect to cope with being in the international public's eye near twenty-four-seven?

Between being kidnapped, fighting evil megalomaniacs, dealing with the drama of simply being teenage superstars and recognizing the fact that your beyblade was actually, well, sentient… how could something as mundane as loving another dude or chick be expected to throw them?

Or, at least that's what they'd thought up until the year before…

"And that's the Silver Spinners everybody! Give a big hand to the last of our five newest teams!"

Max blinked as DJ Jazzman's voice rung out through the clapping and whooping, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the group of four who were standing in front of their seating box, decked in silver tank tops and black track pants.

Max quirked an eyebrow at them. How exactly was that girl planning on blading in heels that high? And earrings that long would be so easy to rip out in a match, especially against Brooklyn or one of the other more violent bladers.

And fuck, even Ming-Ming knew that rings like that would just get totaled if you battled anyone in the professional circle wearing them!

Looking at the other four rookie teams Max could see that the rest of them were dressed like that, too; with cute little matching uniforms in their "team colours" and unique little accessories like necklaces and other pieces of jewelry lending them "individuality".

Max smothered a snort; he couldn't wait to see their faces after someone's sparkly nails wound up cracking during a match against one of Tyson's typhoons. Or if the chick in the heels slipped on the wet platform after he and Draciel, or maybe even Spencer and Seaborg, went up against her.

So busy was Max trying to keep his laughing fit to himself that he barely even realized that the last, and most awaited, team had been announced until Jazzman's voice rang out in welcome.

"…and please join me in welcoming our last World Class team from their yearlong sabbatical, I give you Captain Tala Ivanov of the Blitzkrieg Boys!"

For a second, Max thought that DJ Jazzman had got the order wrong. Because obviously the tall, lithe teenager that came gliding out of the entrance point couldn't be Tala.

Sure, his hair was the same spooky, bloody red as Tala's that contrasted sharply against his near-white skin, but no longer was it gelled up in those intimidating devil horns. Instead it had been thrown back into a ponytail at the base of his neck that ended in a slight curl just below his shoulder blades, with his bangs falling forward sharply.

Also missing was Tala's signature white, orange and blue jumpsuit, which seemed to have been traded in for a pair of snug, white skinny jeans that ended in sturdy black combat boots and a long-sleeved navy blue T-shirt that clung to his every toned muscle before flaring a little in the arms to give him better movability.

Around his lean hips was the only hint of orange left in the outfit, that being the tight fitting orange leather holster that carried his unique-to-the-Blitzkrieg-Boys gun-styled launcher with a smaller pouch a little to the side of the holster that likely housed his blade, Wolborg.

Coming to a stop in front of his team's assigned seating just like all the others had done before him, the 'could-it-actually-be-Tala-?' casually crossed his arms over his chest before giving the gently murmuring crowd a grin that came across as so devilish that it couldn't have been anyone else giving it.

Really, Max thought with a kind of happy daze as the stadium erupted with applause and cheers, all he's missing is a creepy "I'm back"…

It took Jazzman maybe four or five minutes to get the crowd back down to a reasonable level so he could announce the next member of the team, this time being one of the two teens who had started all the drama as of recent, Kai Hiwatari.

Dressed in a tight red muscle shirt and black cargo pants Kai looked downright regal as he made his way to stand beside Tala, the ends of his signature scarf flaring behind him. His hair was as wild and free as ever and while he was pale, the dark circles that had haunted his eyes in the past were gone.

Boots made of muted red leather ended at mid-shin on his black cargos and a holster much like Tala's was strapped around his waist, although unlike his captain's flamboyant orange one Kai's was done in a tasteful black.

Matching black fingerless gloves covered his hands and, when he turned to stand beside Tala in the second-in-command's spot, just a hint of some kind of black tattoo could be seen through the shifting gaps of his scarf.

Kai glared just one poisonous look at the White Tigers before settling beside Tala and really, that was all Max felt he needed to do to get his message across.

This was not over. Not by a long shot.

Wincing a little at the not-so-hidden communication that went on there, Max reaffixed his grin to his face and started clapping along with everyone else as Jazzman hurriedly introduced the next member, Bryan Kuznetsov.

At least Bryan looks about as menacing as usual, Max thought, slightly amused as the older, taller blader strolled in to take, oddly, the forth place on the team, leaving a gap between him and Kai.

Dressed in a pair of black jeans that ended in fur-topped brown leather boots, Bryan looked rather frightening standing beside Kai, who he was at least half a head taller than. Over the top of a black tank was his signature leather-and-fur jacket, but a pair of more non-descript brown fingerless gloves had replaced his previous navy blue ones.

His original navy holster, on the other hand, was still attached loosely around his narrow hips and, much like his two teammates, the standard handgun-styled launcher rested snugly inside it.

Max laughed nervously as AJ Topper made a crack about how Bryan and Ray would work together, seeing as how Bryan had put Ray in the hospital after their battle four years ago, but luckily Bryan just sneered. Jazzman started introducing the next person, this time being Spencer Petrov, a rather short few seconds later.

Spencer, as it turned out, was just as hulking as Max remembered, maybe even having grown a few more inches, making him an even six feet ten inches of pure muscle.

He was dressed in a pair of reasonable green camo pants and a short-sleeved black T-shirt with a pair of more classically styled leather arm guards protecting his forearms. Sporty black mesh gloves covered his hands and, unlike his fellow teammates, his bazooka-inspired launcher was carried at his side with his blade, Seaborg, likely in his pocket.

His honey-brown hair was a little longer than before and free to fall around his face as his head protector was missing along with all of the orange and white that had made up his previous outfit of choice.

Spencer's face was utterly blank as he took his spot beside Bryan, not giving the White Tigers or anyone else a hint to his feelings.

"The next member of the Blitzkrieg Boys team will be joining us as only a technician this time around due to a broken cord arm sustained just a few months ago, give it up everybody for Ian Papov!"

Max blinked owlishly as the youngest member of the original Demolition Boys came out of the entrance at a gentle jog, his arm in a navy blue support brace over the long-sleeved charcoal grey T-shirt that he was wearing.

Black angel wing graphics covered the back of the shirt left uncovered by the green and purple backpack he had thrown over his shoulder and the toes of a pair of comfortable-looking converse peeked out from below his full-length brown cargo pants.

His launcher, a somewhat shotgun-esque monstrosity that was only about four or five inches shorter than him, was clipped onto the side of the backpack in a likely specially-made holster while his blade was hidden in either one of his pockets on his pants or in one of the ones on the backpack.

A black glove, fingerless like the rest of his teammates', covered the hand of his uninjured arm, which was raised in a salute to the audience that just made them cheer even louder as he moved to stand beside Spencer with a large grin on his face.

Max smiled at the younger blader. Much to the surprise and eventual outrage of the rest of the world, Ian had been just ten years old during that first World Championships in Moscow, meaning that he was just fifteen or fourteen now.

Yeah, safe to say when Steve found out he'd been beaten near-effortlessly by a child (though Max had a feeling Ian would have a few words to say about that) he hadn't been all that pleased.

And then came the announcement they'd all been waiting for.

"Ladies and gentleman please give it up for the last blader to join the Blitzkrieg Boys' line-up, Ray Kon!"

Except it wasn't Ray. Or at least it wasn't the Ray that Max remembered, not at all.

This teenager, while tallish and graceful with sun-kissed skin and amber eyes, was not dressed like the Ray Kon Max remembered and looked up to.

For one thing, his traditional Chinese clothing was nowhere to be seen. Instead he was dressed in a long-sleeved dark green shirt that was tailored to fit him loosely, hinting that his battle style still depended on a lot of physical movement. Black pants that fit close to the leg were covered to about mid shin by white wrappings and, unlike the others on his new team, Ray also used those wrappings on his hands to function as gloves.

His shoes, while still looking vaguely like his original flats, were boots that went to the ankle and, just like the rest of the Blitzkrieg Boys, a gun-launcher was strapped snuggly into a deep olive green leather holster that went around his upper thigh with a little compartment for Driger.

All in all, Ray was probably the mildest looking of the whole group.

But then, that wasn't what had them all shocked.

Ray's long, floor length braid was gone; replaced by short, punkish cut that left the back falling to the nape of his neck in a choppy bob that framed his face with his bangs swooping over his left eye, leaving no need for his head band or any of his other hair pieces.

Grinning in a way that flashed his Neko-Jin fangs and made the unobtrusive lip ring at the corner of his mouth gleam, Ray walked with a sexy kind of confidence to fill the space between Bryan and Kai.

The phoenix smirked in response and easily wrapped an arm around the slightly shorter blader's waist, pressing a sweet kiss to the other's lips that sent seemingly every teenage girl in the stadium into a fit of shrieking.

Max himself openly gaped at the brazen move; it was something that the Ray he remembered never would have done.

There's only one way to some this up, Max thought as he blinked at the duo. Ray Kon has joined the dark side!

* * *

**Well, I have now redone chapter two as well and I hope you like it! And yes, those mentioned rookie teams are basically based off of some of those stereotypical OC teams I've seen around here. But no worries, the only reason they're even present is to serve as cannon fodder for before things start to get serious ;) **

**Please Review!**

**Bye!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	3. Story Time

Tyson looked around the peach painted meeting room with tense brown eyes. Sitting beside him was his Maxie, who he'd wrapped his arm around the second they'd sat down, with the rest of the All-Star League around them in the front of the assembled rows of chairs.

Filling in the rest of the front row a few chairs to the right was the White Tigers, who were murmuring

back and forth in stressed Chinese while the Majestics took over the row after them with the Battalion and F Dynasty sitting behind them.

The BEGA 5, now known as just B5 or Battle 5, sat after them beside one of the new teams, a group of girls who were eagerly chattering in something Tyson had never heard before, with the other four groups of newbies filling in the last two rows.

The room they were gathered in, one of the largish meeting rooms in the BBA building located in downtown BeyCity, where they were boredly awaiting Mr. Dickinson to arrive and say what he needed to, was filled with conversation that surprisingly, Tyson wasn't a part of.

Or maybe it wasn't so surprising, Maxie seemed to get it after all, and so did some of the other, older teams.

It was just so strange seeing Ray like that, all dressed up and different. He'd never thought Ray would do something like this; even if he'd changed teams before, Ray himself had never really changed like _that_ before.

It was a weird, annoying thing to think about and it was making him antsy to just get this whole after-Opening-Ceremonies meeting over with.

And it wasn't just that either. It was everything that had happened in the last two years.

From the extreme changes in the different team lineups to the new beyblade teams to the hell that had been last year. From finding that he himself was well, gay and in love with his best friend and having to deal with _that_ splashed all over the newspapers…

Life had just been screwed lately. Ray (and even the other Blitzkrieg Boys) changing so much was just the topper on the cake.

And then, as if summoned by his thoughts on them, in came the Blitzkrieg Boys.

They walked in as one team, still dressed in their blading clothes and with Kai leading them instead of Tala as they filled up the row the Majestics had previously occupied alone.

Beside Kai was Ray with Tala beside him and then Bryan, Ian and finally Spencer on the end.

Spencer, just like before looked completely neutral to the world around him as he pulled a thick paper back novel from the backpack Ian continued to tote around with him and started reading while Ian himself was busy with some kind of portable game thing.

Tala and Bryan both looked deadly and cold as they sat beside each other in eerie silence, with Ray and Kai chatting in quiet Russian, something that had everyone blinking in silent shock at Ray's apparent fluency.

Tyson blinked owlishly. Ray hadn't been able to speak Russian before, had he? If he had Tyson certainly couldn't remember it. Had he learnt it during his time with the Blitzkrieg Boys? While likely, the thought made Tyson shiver. It just served to remind them how much their friend had changed.

Pushing that away Tyson quietly looked around the room. Everyone was silent and tense, the previous chatter having died at the same time the door had opened and it seemed that no one, not even one of the newbies, was too intent on resurrecting it.

The awkwardness in the room was _painfully_ tangible.

Taking a deep breath Tyson decided that enough was enough and, with the softly whispered Russian of Kai and Ray's conversation as his only background noise, made to break the silence.

"So Ray, how you doing?" He asked with a bit of a nervous laugh. Ray turned around form his conversation with Kai and smiled softly back at Tyson.

Tyson felt the tension in his shoulders drift away immediately.

"I've been great, what about you? I heard you won championship last year." Ray said, his warm amber eyes glowing in the gently confident way Tyson couldn't remember having seen in a long time.

Grinning childishly as the tension in the room dissolved, Tyson answered him.

"Yeah, well, that was pretty sweet, but this year is definitely going to be better! Honestly it was a little boring without you and the other Blitzkrieg Boys." Tyson said, beginning to feel more at ease now that he had started talking to Ray.

What he had said was true, though; the last year's Championships had been a little dull without the ever-sarcastic and entertaining remarks made by both Kai and the other Blitzkrieg Boys, not to mention Ray's peace keeping had also been greatly missed.

Ray nodded, his smile slipping a bit in sadness. "Yeah, it was a pretty sudden choice for us to make but, we all just felt that it wouldn't have been good for us to participate." Ray said vaguely before his smile brightened some, "Besides, we all needed a holiday."

Max nodded from his place beside Tyson, "'Sudden' is right man, we were all pretty shocked when we found out you wouldn't be there." The '_we were pretty shocked about everything_' went unsaid.

Ray pursed his lips briefly before smiling again, the fact that Kai had grabbed his hand not going unnoticed by those paying attention.

"Yeah, we were pretty shocked about everything, too." Ray finally said with a sigh in his voice. "Honestly we were just lucky the Russian BBA agreed to let us pull out. Everything just happened so unexpectedly..."

He let the end of his sentence drift off there and Max felt his anger at the team who caused this mess spike even more. The White Tigers had better keep to themselves this year or so help him…

Ray quickly picked up where he'd left off, though; the sweet smile accenting his face helping to remind Max that it was all over now.

"We just figured it would be best to take a break and luckily, so did everyone else involved." Ray finished, shrugging his shoulders in an 'it-was-the-best-we-could-do' pose.

Max smiled back sympathetically. He didn't know what he would have done it the All-Star League or his mother had reacted the same way towards him and Tyson as the White Tigers had toward Ray and Kai. Though, whatever it would have been he probably wouldn't have been able to pull it off with as much grace and dignity as Ray had.

Leaning back in his chair Max nodded to himself, he was happy for them, he decided. He knew it had taken some serious effort not to make this blow up in everyone's face and he was proud that Ray seemed so comfortable with everything now.

There was a small break in conversation here where everyone just sat back and digested everything for a second, though it didn't last nearly as long as the original silence had.

"So Ray, what persuaded you to get your hair cut so short?" Rick asked from his spot at the very end of the row, his body shifted so he could see the Chinese blader better.

It had been bugging him since he'd first caught sight of the ravenette. You didn't just randomly whap off around six feet of hair for no reason, did you? Especially not after growing it out for as long as Ray had…

Ray just smiled back at him before turning to Tala and sending a very harsh death glare at the redhead, who had taken to putting on and innocent face and whistling while Bryan tried to hide laughter behind a cough and Spencer bit his lip. Ian, with no shame at all, openly started laughing his ass off and Kai just shook his head in disbelief with a little snicker.

With a slightly annoyed growl, Ray turned back to the rest of the largely interested bladers and began his tale.

"Well, I had been living with Kai and the guys for about three or four weeks and we had just settled in at an apartment in St. Petersburg for a while until we were done with sorting out some details with the Russian sector of the BBA." Ray started, gaining encouraging nods from those around him.

Smiling, Ray kept going.

"At this time remember I had absolutely no understanding of the Russian language. To me it all sounded like complete gibberish and looked like someone had let a toddler write the alphabet and everyone just followed his example, also bear in mind that these two." He said, jerking his thump at Bryan and Tala. "Are incredibly cruel to people trying to learn their language and decided to speak in only the most heavily accented Russian I have ever heard."

Ray spoke this in obvious annoyance, garnering some nods from other bladers who'd gone through similar things with their teammates while trying to learn their respective languages.

Sighing, Ray settled himself further into his chair before going on; a decidedly annoyed edge in his voice that made Tala wince, much to the mystery of the majority of the room.

"So one night when I was cooking, Tala came up behind me with scissors in hand and asked me something in Russian. I just shook my head and went back to cooking, the next thing I know my head was about two pounds lighter and Tala was making a B-line out of the kitchen." Ray finished; a look in his eyes that made Tala look away nervously.

"In my defense it was Bryan who dared me to do it…" The redhead muttered quietly to himself. Ray just glared at him harder.

After that the rest of the room just looked on in quiet shock. The professional bladers were simply astounded that people they'd known to have such touchy personalities would do something as casual as following out a dare while the newbies just couldn't believe that people who were so scary on TV could act so…childish.

Of all people, it wound up being Kai who actually broke the ensuing silence.

"Yes," the elder blader said in a rather amused tone. "And then when I get back from the Russian BBA office, I come home to find Tala cowering in one corner of the kitchen with an absolutely enraged Ray standing over him with Bryan, Spencer and Ian all trying to keep him from mangling Tala further than he already had." Kai said in disbelieving tone of voice, causing a decidedly red blush to slide up Ray's face.

"Already had?" Max asked timidly. It was very hard for him to imagine Ray hurting Tala _at all_. Never mind it taking Bryan, Spencer and Ian to keep him from doing any more damage! Just how much did Ray change in those few weeks? Or did they just not know that part of Ray...?

Bryan, having somehow managed to control his coughing fit (which had begun to sound more and more like a lighting fit as Kai went on), answered him.

"Well, yeah." Bryan said, "You see after his original freak out Ray kind of got really, really pissed off and started chasing Tala around the apartment. And well, one of the only doors that actually locked in that place was one Spencer put on the kitchen door, but, well; that's another story." Bryan said airily, seeing the confused faces of the other bladers.

"But anyway, Tala, remembering the lock on the door as well as the fire escape located outside the kitchen window, decided to run in there but Ray, who is apparently smarter even in a complete rage than out intrepid captain," this of course earned him a sharp slap on the back of the head from said "intrepid" captain, "had apparently locked and then broken the lock off the window." Bryan said with a grin.

"It was a thing of beauty," Ian snickered from his place beside Spencer. "Tala was completely cornered and Ray had picked up this huge as frying pan and just wailed it at him." The little purple haired blader laughed wildly, making more than a few people shiver at the surprising evilness of it.

"Yes," Spencer's rumbling voice broke in. "If it hadn't been for the fact that Tala had managed to grab a cookie sheet sometime during the chase to use as a shield I'm sure he'd be short even more brain cells than he already is."

Bryan nodded and continued, still choking on the occasional giggle. "Yeah, it turns out that Ray has really good aim when he's pissed because when we went back into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about we found Tala rolled up in little ball at one end of the kitchen, using the cookie sheet as a shield whist Ray threw random kitchen appliances and food items at him." Bryan snickered again, completely ignoring the evil glare Tala was spearing him with.

"We started holding Ray back once he started using the canned soup as ammo." Ian added, smiling a halfway-evil halfway-innocent smile at the teams in the room, causing them all to subconsciously shiver when he looked at them.

Rick and the other bladers just stared dumbfounded at the Blitzkrieg Boys. Who would have thought...?

Shaking his head Rick smiled somewhat ruefully.

Oh yes, this year's Championships were definitely going to be something all right...

Whether that 'something' was a good or a bad 'something' was anyone's guess.

* * *

**Yes, I am now done another chapter and am very proud about it! I hope I get some great Reviews for this! *Hint, Hint* and also thank you to all those who have Reviewed! The more Reviews that faster you get the next chapter!**

**Please Review! *Does the absolutely irresistible super powered puppy eyes!***

**Bye!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	4. On the Flip Side

Mr Dickinson smiled as he quietly shut the door behind him. All those present were so focused on young Mr Kon's story that they hadn't even noticed him… smiling in a slightly more mischievous way, the old man smacked a hand down on his desk and watched with amusement as nearly all of them jumped before placing an innocent look on his face and greeting them warmly.

"Ah, it's so nice to see all of you youngsters getting along so well together but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this little reunion short," the old man said with infinite innocence in his voice as most of the teenagers started to blush and mumble their greetings, turning around to face the right way in their seats at the same time.

Still smiling, Mr Dickinson sat himself down in his desk chair and pulled out the papers he needed from his briefcase.

"Now, we have quite a list to go through, so I'd be happy if all questions and comments were kept until the end. That said I would also appreciate it if all negative comments and questions were kept in your minds. Am I clear?" I.e.: I don't give a shit if you don't like it, suck it up or leave.

Ian giggled a little at his mind's implications but otherwise the group was silent.

Mr Dickinson smiled in his kindly old man way once more before getting the ball rolling.

"That understood, back to my point." Mr Dickinson shuffled some papers before picking one up and unfolding a diagram of sorts.

"This shows how we'll be holding the World Championships this year," the old man explained. "There will be twelve legs, held in a new country and each lasting a week with one of you leaving us each leg.  
The legs will be divvied up as so," the old man said before starting up again at the nods of the bladers assembled.

"You will arrive on Monday with Tuesday serving as a day of rest, to get your grips on the country and try to stave off jetlag, practice or simply explore. The next day, Wednesday, will be the first round of battles. Teams will be paired against each other with the winners going on to the next leg directly and losers going on to fight in day two, on Thursday. Thursday will function the same as Wednesday, with the losers going on to fight on Friday and the winners joining those from day one in the next leg.

"Friday will go the same, with teams being matched up and battling but if there's an odd number of teams, which their will likely be, teams will be paired up until there is just one leftover team. After the pairs' battles one team will be picked out of the losing teams at random to battle the single team. Whoever wins goes on to the next leg, the team who doesn't will be out. This policy applies for if we have an odd number on the other two days as well."

Mr Dickinson looked around at the teams, smile still in place. "Any questions so far?"

A newbie at the back raised her hand, Mr Dickinson nodded with a polite "yes, Miss Popescu?"

The girl flipped her dark chestnut hair over her shoulder, "Just Angela, please, and will the number of matches be the same for the World Championships as they were for the preliminaries?" she bit out in confident, though highly accented English.

Tyson vaguely recognized her as one of the girls he'd seen talking with her team in something strange before the Blitzkrieg Boys had arrived.

Mr Dickinson smiled at her confidence and nodded, "Yes, it will still be the same five matches to one battle as before. We decided to leave it this way instead of three to one in the hopes it would give every member the chance to battle, even if it meant some might have to go twice for the smaller teams."

The girl, Angela, nodded before leaning back in her chair.

A boy dressed nearly fully in white raised his hand from the same row.

"Mr Mubarak," Mr Dickinson acknowledged.

"If a team has already won four or three of five matches, will we have to continue to fight the final one or two?" the boy asked with his head tilted.

Kai privately took note of the use of 'we' instead of 'they' at the end. Could it have been just a slip in translation or was it arrogance he was trying to cover? Kai decided to keep an eye on him and see. After all, if he really was an arrogant little snot then maybe he could use that to his advantage if they ever had to face each other.

_Pride goes before the fall,_ Kai thought pensively, _I know that better than anyone._

Ray squeezed his hand slightly, as if knowing his thoughts, and Kai immediately zoned back in; giving a small smile to his boyfriend in return.

"Traditionally yes, as it shows a sign of respect to the team you are competing against, but if for one reason or another the losing team forfeits the rest of the matches or is too injured to continue then whoever has won the most matches, regardless of the amount of matches left, will be named winner," Mr Dickinson took a breath, "The only time this will not happen is in the event of an injury that stalls the rest of the matches and takes a blader out of commission for an unforeseeable amount of time."

Here his eyes flicked over The Blitzkrieg Boys for a moment as he paused.

"If something as unfortunate as that happens then, unless the team with the injured player has another member who can take the injured one's place, they will be forced to forfeit. Any kind of forfeit at all, of course, leads to the immediate disqualification of the team."

Mubarak nodded silently before settling back again.

Another girl raised a tanned hand, Kai recognized her as one of the newbies from this year's Greek team, the Olympians.

"Yes, Miss Ambrosia?" Mr Dickinson asked.

"Um, what else, exactly, can get you disqualified?" she asked, her cherry pink painted lips pouted.

Mr Dickinson smiled consolingly, "the usual, really. Showing up for your match past the designated waiting period, long-lasting injury, loss of passport or other important travel documents, lack of a blade or any situation that ends with your parents or guardian requesting your return home."

The girl nodded slightly before turning to say something quickly in Greek to one of her teammates.

"Are there any further questions?" Mr Dickinson asked inquiringly after a few minutes of silence.

Almost subconsciously the room shook their heads.

Mr Dickinson smiled again, "On to the next event on the list, then," he said quietly, though the little microphone clipped to his jacket amplified it anyway, making many around the room smile fondly.

Mr Dickinson sent a slightly reprimanding glance at the White Tigers. "Due to events you may or may not know about, that had taken place just before last year's World Championships, the board of directors has decided that it would be a good idea to host a sort of… reunion, for all the bladers, whether they are participating this year or not, who have joined the BBA over the years." The crowd frowned and mumbled amongst themselves.

"The reunion will be held here the day before you all head off on to the first leg of the Championships in our grand ballroom. A DJ will be hired with drinks and food provided," Mr Dickenson continued and Tyson let out a whoop at the mention of food, leading to indulgent/amused/irritated looks from all those in the room.

Mr Dickinson smiled slightly before moving on again.

"On a more serious note, I would also like to mention that, while this function is designed to be fun and lively, there will also be coverage from the press present and that you may at any time be asked for an interview. So, for the good of the BBA, please try to keep any illegal drinking to a minimum and any drama that you don't want splashed against the next day's news behind closed doors."

Grinning blatantly from the look of stunned shock on the faces of about half of the bladers in the room and the wide eyes of those with more self-control, Mr Dickinson cleared his throat.

"Also, let it be known that I, as well as the public and media, expect each and every one of you to show up for this reunion. If you are not present then let it also be known that the BBA will not be able to account for your whereabouts and thus is not accountable for any assumptions made by the media nor general public." The grin that rested on the face of the President of the BBA was, well, some might just say _sadistic_as he finished off his 'warning.'

Tala just grinned wickedly right back at the old dude; at least no one could say the old bat had lost his edge.

His smile settling back down to his normal grandfatherly version, Mr Dickinson moved on, completely ignoring the shocked/glaring eyes directed at him.

"Now that that's all settled, I officially dismiss you from this meeting. Packages with your plane tickets, reunion invitations, hotel reservations, directions to the stadium and name of where you will be flying to will be delivered to your rooms shortly, I wish you all the best," Mr Dickinson said with a bright smile.

Everyone else just looked at him blankly for a second before murmuring their goodbyes and leaving him to his space.

* * *

Mariah slammed the creamy door of her hotel room suite shut soundly behind her. Using the resounding slam as a kind of cue to fall apart, she let a rough sob escape her throat and slid down the back of the door. She was so exhausted. Her body felt too heavy for her legs to hold up anymore.

Or maybe that was just the weight of the guilt she'd been keeping just above her shoulders for the last year finally crashing down on her.

Choking on another strangling sob, she crossed her arms over her knees and bent her head to rest on them; suddenly amazingly glad she was the only girl on her team and got a separate room because of it.

If Lee caught her like this, so broken up after seeing Ray, the "traitor" as he'd gone back to calling him, happy like that… Dear Gods, she didn't even want to know what he would say.

"You should be stronger! Don't let your feelings show! Don't be _weak_ because of his **betrayal**!"

Heh; and that was only if he thought she was crying because of Ray's "betrayal". That she was crying because of her anger that the others were so "blind" to how wrong it was wouldn't even cross his mind.

Feh, yeah right.

Truth was that she was just so sick of feeling so horrible all the time. Of feeling like a terrified lab rat that had failed her tests but had magically been overlooked because another rat had failed in a more noticeable way. She was tired of thinking and not being able to think and being told not to think. Of hiding and being so, so _good_ and _obedient_because she was scared of what would happen to her.

And she was jealous. In her heart of hearts she was so, so _jealous_. She was jealous of the other bladers, who looked at her in disgust but didn't bother to really see her before they turned their backs. Of people on the streets who loved and lived as they wished and her teammates who were so sure in their views and even Ray, her dear, sweet little Ray-Ray who was so strong and smart and happy and everything she just couldn't be.

It just wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that Ray had run off so fast that night. It wasn't fair that Lee hadn't let her out of the hotel without him or one of the others unless it was to battle or to catch a plane. It wasn't fair that she only knew the basic of computers and phones. It wasn't fair the she could just barely write passably in English or Cantonese…

It wasn't fair that she had these feelings, these urges to do bad things and then try her best to hide them. It wasn't fair that she had to be so _scared_all the time.

Why couldn't someone see that? Why couldn't someone ask questions? Ask her where she had gone to school, or if she knew how to write her name perfectly in a langue everyone knew?

Why couldn't someone see she needed help?

Why couldn't she _tell_them she needed help?

_Because I'm scared._

Mariah laughed at the thought that ran rampant in her mind. Oh, of course she was scared. How could she not be, with the stories she'd heard and the things she'd seen and the knowledge that she was just like those bad kids, the "bad seeds" the Elders were so damn afraid of.

Ray didn't know that she knew, but she'd known since his first visit back home that he was being hurt by the Elders. How could she miss it when her mother too had worn gloves to hide the scars? The scars which she'd shown Mariah because, heh, Mei Wong would be damned if she let her daughter walk into the same trap she'd stepped into.

Mariah smiled a little at the thought of her mother. Mei Wong, originally Mei Long, had been a proud, beautiful woman who'd always dreamed of better things for her daughter than their tiny village could muster. She'd loved her children fiercely even though she'd despised being married to her husband and had tried to run when she'd found herself pregnant with Lee.

She hadn't made it a mile outside the gates before the search party had found her sixteen-year-old self and dragged her back.

According to her mother, they'd tied her down when she was pregnant with Mariah. Mariah had found herself believing her too, especially after her mama had showed her the scarring around her wrists left by the bonds.

She was dead now though, killed in the same plague that had taken Ray and several other children's parents the year before he'd run.

That had also been the same year Lee had changed. Without their mother to remind him that there were other ways than their village's he'd been completely vulnerable to their father, who believed so zealously in their traditions that he was often one of the few chosen by the Elders to carry out punishments.

Mariah had spent many a sleepless night wondering if it had been her father who'd held Ray down and beat him for leaving their precious village. She'd then usually turned over in her bed and tried to figure out why their gods had seen it fit to take her mother and leave her father there to torment people. She'd always be crying during those times because damn, wasn't she just the world's worst daughter?

To compensate for those thoughts (and others she knew were "wrong" but found herself having nonetheless), she often pushed herself to do just as everyone wanted her to.

Whether it was being best in her class or holding her tongue when all she'd wanted to do was scream, she'd done all she could to appease her father and anyone else who'd asked something of her.

But it was getting harder for her to do, though. So, so much harder. It seemed that every day Lee was changing, becoming less her sweet, protective brother and more her obsessive, violent father. The others were no help either. They were content with the way things were and really, how could they not be? They were men. The world was theirs back home. So long as they did as the Elders said they could do as they liked with everything else.

This, the beyblading, the Championships, the technology, the outside world; it was just a real-life adventure book to them, something to be played out and explored but not to be taken too seriously.

To her though, it was a chance. A chance to get away from the village, the Elders and all the fucking rules she'd grown up controlled by.

And she'd be damned if she let it run out the door like she had Ray.

Swallowing a deep breath Mariah carefully brushed the tears from her face. Ray's recent reappearance had to be sign of some sort and she was going to take it.

Grasping the polished door handle, she slowly pushed herself to her feet before pushing herself into the chair in front of the desk, provided by the hotel, which sat across the room. On the desk sat a phone, a list of hotel contacts, a pad of paper with the hotel's crest in the corner, a pen and a sleek silver desktop computer.

Nodding to herself she quickly went over to her bed where she'd thrown her suitcase that morning, when she'd gotten dressed, and opened it up. Once done, she opened the slender pocket on the inner top of the case and pulled out a bunch of papers and envelopes bound together into five bundles, each inches thick and bound with an elastic band.

On the front of each was a piece of plain paper with a year on it, written in less and less shaky writing each time.

They were all the papers she'd ever been given by the BBA. From tournament notices to travel forms to bank receipts to statements about how much money she'd get at the end of the year per her contract.

Placing the bundles on the desk she made sure her door was locked before opening them up, making sure to keep them in their yearly order.

She knew what they said of course. Even back when she hadn't been able to read it herself because of her terrible understanding of English (which had steadily gotten better until only some words tripped her up now) she'd gotten hotel employees to read them to her when her brother and teammates were out.

She'd never loved their 'Boys Nights Out' so much in her life.

Finding what she needed from them, she turned on the computer at the desk and opened up the internet browser.

In her second year as a World Class blader while her teammates had been out she'd gotten an employee in America to give her a crash course on the internet and its uses for a small fee that had been innocuously added on to her tab. One of the things he'd showed her was how to use Google as a calculator.

She'd never done it before, actually trying to figure out how much money she'd made as a blader, but now that she was actually trying to plan how to leave her village… well, it just seemed like a good step to take.

Typing in the amounts listed on her yearly income statements for each of her four years as a blader (as she hadn't gotten this year's yet) she hit the equals sign on the keyboard and the enter button on the computer and proceeded to be blown away by the sum.

Roughly 546,778 Yuan. Not a penny of it had been touched (her village worked by trade after all and the BBA paid for all the necessities of their bladers) and this year's salary had yet to be paid. This wasn't counting a nifty little thing called interest that she'd been told about by a woman who worked at a hotel in Tokyo or the down rounding she'd done and it was already more than she'd been hoping for.

Mariah grinned wildly. If there had been one thing that had worried her above all others, it was money. How was she going to get it if she didn't have it? What would she do if she didn't have enough to live? But now… now she didn't need to worry about that.

That 546,778 Yuan would definitely be enough to get her a very good place to live and probably a decent collage education too.

For now though she could just focus on making it through this year and applying to the BBA Schooling System to fill In the numerous holes she was bound to have in her education. It was rated one of the best in the world and worked through the computer so Championship BBA Bladers wouldn't miss anything. The village of course hadn't let any of them sign up but now she had a chance at it.

The only problem was her lack of a parental guardian which, technically, was her father, who would never, ever let her get away with this.

Though… hadn't Ray been in the same place? And the Blitzkrieg Boys and BEGA bladers too, as far as she knew, none of them had willing guardians. Perhaps they'd gone to Mr Dickinson?

Mariah nodded to herself. Yes, that made sense. Mr Dickinson was the head of the BBA and very influential and understanding. She was sure that if she just talked to him, he could help her like he'd likely helped the others.

Mariah smiled to herself. Her future had just started to look much brighter than it had before, but before she did any celebrating she had to speak to Mr Dickinson about her plans.

Picking up the phone on the desk she carefully clicked the numbers in before holding it to her ear, her stomach lurching and rolling but her shoulders infinitely lighter.

To think, if everything went to plan then by this time tomorrow her biggest worries might just be what to wear to this BBA reunion thingy.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long! And for the lack of Kai/Ray, but I had to get this done! The next chapter has Kai/Ray and possibly some other couples as well! Anyway hope you like this! Also, what do you guys think of Mariah's sudden changes?**

**Things You Should Know:**

**Mariah's Money: Kay so that 546,778 Yuan? That pretty much equals 320,000$ US. That means that in her four years as a BBA star blader, she's made about 80 000 a year, which, according to my research which could be wrong, is what a typical athlete makes yearly. And I say rounded down because I did have to round it down, the actual number is like 546, 778.4 something, something, something, Okay?**

**The White Tiger Village: Okay before I get roasted for being a racist she-bitch, let me just say that this was in no way intended to strike any body and I'm very sorry if you're offended. That said, I'm taking creative license here and if you don't like it, then leave because it's probably just going to get worse from here on out **

**Bashing of the White Tigers: Yeah, sorry about that. I actually adore Lee, Kevin and Gary but I need bad guys and I have a special hate for OCs… So sorry, and also if you don't like my bashing then you should probably get going because it's just going to get worse.**

**The OCs in This Story: Let me just make it clear that they are just cannon fodder. They were created purely to be beaten and show why OCs don't belong in Beyblade and explain menial things the actual characters would already likely know (such as the BBA World Champion rules for this fic). They will have no relationships with the real characters and likely no names besides those few chosen to actually say something. **

**Anyway, Please Review!**

**Bye!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	5. Harden Your Heart

**(Early the Next Day)**

Tyson and Max sat in the little sitting room area of the hotel room that the BBA had booked for them in a sad kind of silence. It was early, nearly seven in the morning, and neither of them had slept at all the night before.

Not that either had expected to. The spat they'd had with their teammates before coming back to their hotel room had been way too bad for them to even consider it.

It had been an old argument; one they'd been having ever since Tyson had joined the team and, Max had admitted, even a bit before that. It was just that their team had so many people on it! Some of the original members (Steve, Michael and Eddy) felt slighted by Tyson's presence and even at Max because they said that he wasn't 'loyal' enough to stick with them.

Emily had just sighed and once again offered to stay on the team as just a technical aide, like Ian from the Blitzkrieg Boys, but Michael had just snorted and yelled that if she thought that would work than maybe she shouldn't have become a blader period.  
Rick had barked a laugh at that, grabbed his boom box and called Michael and egotistical pansy who wouldn't have known talent if it had bitten him in the ass before leaving with a casual call of "later children" over his shoulder.

Judy hadn't said anything, even when Max had looked right at her with pleading eyes asking for help. She'd simply turned back to her keyboard and proceeded to tune them all out, muttering under her breath about having to finish her work.

That, of course, had pissed Tyson off to no end, especially when he'd seen Max practically wilt under her inattention. How dare that fucking cow hurt his Maxie like that?

After narrowing his eyes into a deadly glare, which he'd picked up from Kai over the years, the normally happy-go-lucky blader had told Michael, who had still been bitching about his and Max's presence on the team, that he could go fuck himself before grabbing the blue-eyed blonde's hand and leaving.

They'd come back to the hotel after that, where Max had almost immediately broken into tears and apologies about how he'd never wanted this to happen and "oh, Tyson I'm so sorry I dragged you into this!"

Tyson had just sighed and gathered the shorter blader into his arms before settling them both down on the couch in their room, his hands gloveless and running soothingly through his blonde's spiky hair as he tried to calm the other blader down.

They'd stayed like that for hours, until both of them had lost themselves in thought. Tyson had been trying to figure out if Max's parents were both so deadbeat that they couldn't notice that their own petty bickering was pulling their son apart and how he was going to fix it, and Max wondering what he'd done to deserve all this.

Both teens were in such deep thought that they'd both jumped about a foot in the air when the shrill ringing of the telephone broke the comfortable silence that had settled over the room.

Tyson grinned sheepishly at Max before settling the still slightly teary blonde back down on the couch and, placing a small kiss on his forehead, the bluenette promised that they'd head to bed for a nap when he got back before going to go hunt down the phone.  
Finding it sitting innocently on the desk in the bedroom part of their room, he clicked the buttons and answered the call with a cheery "Hello this is Tyson Granger speaking, what can I do for you?!" that he didn't really feel peppy enough to pull off.

"Ah, yes, Tyson. There is actually something you could help me with, dear boy," Mr Dickinson said from wherever he was calling from.

Tyson frowned, what would Mr D need from him this early in the morning?  
"Yeah sure, Sir. What do you need?" the Four-Time World Champ said with a wane grin he knew the old man couldn't see.

"Well, you see, Tyson just last night I got a rather strange call from one of your fellow bladers looking to be taken off her team. The girl has explained to me her rather precarious situation and I agreed that it was no longer safe for her to be in that situation. This said I don't happen to have another team to place her on," the old man said, leaving Tyson confused. How the heck could he help with that?

He was just about to ask when Mr D started up again.

"And then, at about six on the dot this morning, I found one young Daichi Sumeragi sitting in my office. Within seconds of my seeing the youngster, the boy had begun rambling about how he needed to be on a team, he didn't care which."

Tyson laughed softly at the mental image; oh yeah, that was Daichi alright.

Mr D continued on after a second. "This, strangely enough, coincided rather perfectly with a call I found on my message machine from one Mr Kenny Saien. It seems that the young man would also like to join a team, as both a blader and a technician though he is content to stay on the side-lines if that is the only option."

Tyson, for once in his life, just stayed silently. Something in his gut told him if he just did that then maybe Mr D would eventually get to where this little story started to involve him.

"And then, maybe thirty minutes later I got a call from Judy Tate about the overcrowding on her team and how she needed me to figure out where she could transfer two of her members."

Tyson's jaw actually dropped. There were no doubts in his mind that this was where Mr D's story started to involve him and, if his gut feeling was right (which they always were), then the other blader was Maxie... That fucking bitch! When he saw her again, he'd-

"So after considering my options, I have decided that the best thing to do is to create a new team. One consisting of Daichi, Kenny, yourself and Max, as I'm sure you've guessed, and Mariah Wong, the girl I told you about earlier and – oh, and a miss Hilary Tatibana! She will be acting as your manager/coach as I believe she's done for you and a few others in the past, correct?"

Tyson nodded and Mr D kept talking, even though Tyson was sure the old man couldn't have seen him.

"But anyway, before I can officially form this team I need to ask you Tyson, would you and Max be even interested in joining? I mean, Mrs Tate may ask you to be moved but she can do no such thing without my consent, so if you don't want to…"

It should be said here that, when he'd answered the phone, it hadn't been by picking up the actual phone. Figuring that it had just been something inane like a kind of hotel-telemarketer or the pizza place down the street calling about his tab, Tyson had just flicked on the speakerphone option.

Max, having heard Mr D's voice, had hauled himself up off the couch sometime during the beginning of the conversation to stand against the door frame. This meant that he'd been all ears for hearing that his mother had asked for him and his boyfriend to be, essentially, kicked off her team.

Tyson looked at his boyfriend, the tears streaming from the blonde's blue eyes and his shaky nodding before pulling his lips into a straight line, silently vowing to make Judy Tate pay. Pushing those thoughts away for a second though, he answered the head of the BBA.

"Oh yeah, Mr D; we're interested, all right."

* * *

**(9:59am)**

Ray let out a content sigh as he snuggled deeper into the dark red sheet that covered the bed in Kai's room, loving how said blader's strong arms tightened around his waist protectively as he slept on.

Early morning sunlight beamed through the large French balcony doors, coating the two lovers (_who_, Ray thought regretfully, _had forgotten to close the drapes_) in its warm glow. Half melted candles were scattered thoughtlessly around the grey-blue room and the door to the en-suite master bathroom was left wide open, showing a half empty bottle of champagne and two glasses sitting innocently on the edge of the marble Jacuzzi tub.

Ray smiled happily at the evidence of their little celebration of yesterday having gone so smoothly, it had been the perfect way to wind down after all the stress they'd built up preparing for it. And it seemed to be the perfect way of assuaging nightmares as well, seeing as how both he and Kai had slept through the night.

A not-so-little known fact was that Ray was a morning person, a little known one though, was that he was a morning person because of the chronic nightmares he'd been having since he was ten.

At first they had all been about the day he'd woken up to find his parents dead back in the White Tiger Hills. They'd been sick for about a week by that time, back at the beginning of the plague that had struck the little village, and everyone had thought they'd get better in a few days. Then he, little Ray Kon, had been heard screaming by the neighbours and people had realized that all those folks who'd just been 'down with the cold' weren't really sick with the cold at all.

From there, the nightmares had built to being killed in his sleep during the nights he'd spent living on the street, to losing his precious friends because they had found out he was gay, to finally losing Kai (sometimes to death, like his parents, or sometimes because the silverette had tired of him).

All in all, the nightmares and time on the streets had slowly turned Ray Kon into a morning person. Just like the Abbey and the soldier training given by the Abbey had converted the other Blitzkrieg Boys and his boyfriend into morning people.

That said, they were also all light sleepers. This, it seemed, had been born from the paranoia associated both with living on the streets for a year and a few months and from being mostly raised in a situation of intense and continuous abuse.

What it basically meant though was that if one of them woke up screaming, the others woke up _from_said screaming.

It was just another thing that they lived with and honestly, it was their normal. Besides, just because Ray was an early morning guy didn't mean he couldn't be a night person too.

Gathering all his energy, Ray gently slipped out of Kai's embrace, careful not to wake the phoenix blader who Ray knew hadn't gotten a full night in around to three weeks.

Smiling softly at his sleeping boyfriend, who gave the slightest sound of annoyance at the loss of his personal teddy bear, Ray pressed a soft kiss to Kai lips before leaving the room.

As much as he would have loved to stay there with Kai, he still had to pack the remainder of his stuff for the plane to Greece which they had to catch the morning after the BBA's dance thing. Plus Tala would need consoling once he realized that he couldn't bring his whole closet with him and he still had to check over Ian's stuff to make sure the younger blader had remember to pack clothes and a toothbrush as well as beyblade pieces and other things to tinker and amuse himself with.

And breakfast. He had breakfast to make as well because yes, sometimes they did normal things too and Spencer had said he'd do laundry if Ray agreed to breakfast.

A few minutes later Ray found himself stepping out of the shower, marvelling quietly at just how damn easy it was to shower when you didn't have a rough five feet of hair to wash.

After brushing his teeth and drying off (and blushing anew every time he came across another love bite), Ray wrapped a towel around his waist and silently moved over to the obviously old, very expensive wardrobe that he proceeded to pull a soft black, long-sleeved T-shirt of Kai's out of, along with a pair of his boyfriend's grey skinny jeans because he would be damned if he forced himself to shimmy through a hallway that was likely littered with pranks from Bryan, Tala and Ian unclothed when there was his boyfriend's closet he could raid.

All in all, the only thing he actually wound up wearing that was his was his launcher and holster.  
Originally, Ray had had issues with always having the thing on him, especially when he found out that his gun "styled" launcher also doubled as a fully functioning handgun with preloaded bullets. But, he had soon grown just as paranoid as the rest of the Blitzkrieg Boys about not having it on him once Tala had told some tales about how having the gun had saved their asses once or twice.

And then of course there had been the incident when Ian had broken his arm back in Russia. If it hadn't been for Bryan and his quick shooting then, well, it probably would have been a lot more than Ian's arm that had been broken.

Shaking his head to clear it of the images of Ian bleeding on the ground with his arm at the wrong angle, Ray ran a hand through his short hair and kept moving.

Yawning, Ray slipped on his black slippers, the only thing he hadn't let Tala toss when the redhead attacked his closet, or as Tala had called it, "The Portal to China's Past." The redhead had spent an hour and a half chewing him out about how old fashioned all his clothes were and then another two arguing with him over whether or not he was going to keep his slippers, but Ray had luckily won that fight.

Besides, while Ray still had issues when it came to moving quietly in combat boots, he was silent as a ghost in these shoes, which, really, he needed to be in order to sneak away from Tala and Bryan when they were in a pranking mood.

Walking as silently as ever, Ray made his way to the kitchen and started getting breakfast and coffee (no one, not even Ian, could live without coffee in this house) ready.

Moving around the kitchen in a way that would make you think he'd been doing it for years when really, he'd barely lived in this particular apartment for maybe a few weeks before he'd joined the team and they'd started traveling all around the world, Ray started to whip up pancakes while patiently waiting for the coffee to be ready.

Smiling softly, Ray started setting up the table; grabbing one of the large trays from above the oven he started plucking pancakes off the pancake grill and stacking them on it. Setting it on the table he put the coffee beside it before sitting down, giving a silent wave to Spencer who came in blinking blearily at him before he started forking pancakes onto his own plate.

Watching as the rest of his little group come in Ray couldn't help but think things were finally going to go right for once.

And just a second later he sent up a little prayer to whoever was listening that it would stay that way.

* * *

**(7:39pm)**

Mariah hissed as she gingerly applied the cold cloth to her bruised cheek, wincing as she made the mistake of letting her eyes drift up to meet the bathroom mirror.

It was bad; stretching from her jaw almost all the way up to her cheekbone and turning a dark, inky colour instead of the bright red it had been about twenty minutes ago when her darling brother had gifted her with it.  
Choking a little on a sob, Mariah slowly lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bath tub; grimacing when she felt her body groan in protest. Apparently she hadn't just gotten the bruise on her cheek when he'd hit her, perhaps she'd picked up the ones she was feeling now when she crashed into the desk?

She felt a couple tears roll down her cheeks as she pressed her hands over her eyes. And today had been such a good day too.

After she'd called Mr Dickinson and explain what she wanted to do, the BBA president had invited her to his office for an appointment at eight am to go over the paperwork. After that had been finished it had just been a matter of signing her up for the courses she wanted to take out of the ones the schooling system provided, giving her the disk with those courses on it and having Mr Dickinson sign the permission forms.

The entire thing had been rather easy actually, without any of the awkward questions she'd been worried about being asked. Apparently Mr Dickinson was used to working with 'precarious cases' as he'd put it, because the first thing he'd done was get her to sign a contract which pretty much gave all the rights of her guardian to the BBA for the next year or until she was eighteen.

Mariah smiled to herself despite the pain in her face; she'd be eighteen in just three months.

Once everything had been signed she'd gone with a BBA aide to the banking sector of the BBA where they'd proceeded to straighten out her accounts and give her a little plastic bank card with her name on it. Once that was done, Mariah had hailed a cab and proceeded to shop.

Shoes, jeans, things to blade in, accessories, a new holster, gloves and this sweet little leather jacket that hugged her in places her brother would freak out at. It had been bliss; complete and utter bliss. She'd bought what she'd wanted and done it with pride. At that time she didn't think she could ever be happier.

And then, she'd come back to the hotel. She'd put her things in her room, found the letter of resignation she'd had written and hidden for so, so long in her luggage and had gone to the next room over, where Lee and the others were staying.

That was her first mistake. She shouldn't have gone alone, not when she was going to be telling Lee something as… bad as what she was.

Her second mistake was doing it in person. She should have just slipped the notice under the door and asked to have her room changed to a different floor. She'd done neither.

Her third mistake was trying to calm him down. As soon as he'd started yelling she should have left, seeing as the moment she'd spoken he'd raised his fist and hit her in the face so hard she'd gone flying into the desk on the other side of the room.

Lee had seemed shocked after that, as if he couldn't believe what he'd done. He'd left, storming out of the room into the hallway while Mariah had just laid there; half propped up by the desk and chair with her legs kicked out beneath her.

Eventually her own shock had worn off and she'd managed to drag herself out of Lee's room and to her own. It had been an effort but she'd pulled herself to her feet and opened the door before making her way to the bathroom, where she'd been ever since.

Mariah shook her head hard, trying to dislodge all thought of Lee and the pain he had caused her. She couldn't cry now.

When she'd returned to her room it had been to find that Mr Dickinson had left her a message on the hotel phone. Apparently she was going to be meeting Max Tate, Tyson Granger, Daichi Sumeragi, Hilary Tatibana and Kenny Saien in only an hour at Mr Dickinson's office to go over things like their new team name and other Championships-related affairs.

She looked bad enough as it was with that horrible bruise on her face; the last thing she needed was to turn up tear stained and weak as well.

Right now she needed to portray a look of confidence and power; not fear and indecision. She needed to pull herself together and hold off the breakdown until much later, when she was all alone and couldn't be judged.

Mariah let herself smile, even if it was a little shaky. Yeah, that sounded good; falling apart later not now.

First though, she needed to do something about her appearance and do something about the tremors that kept running through her body.

Slowly Mariah pulled herself up from her place on the bath, using the edge of the bathroom counter to steady herself. She grimaced as she felt her arms and legs groan at the strain.

"Well," she muttered to herself as she looked at the mirror, "no amount of make-up's going to fix that."

Turning her face away from the glass in mild disgust she walked over to the shower and proceeded to turn it on as hot as she could handle. Stripping, she stepped in and proceeded to wash and scrub away every trace of her brother's fowl touch and all the tears she'd shed over him away.

After rinsing off she mindfully wrapped a towel around herself and started to dry herself, careful of the numerous bruises on her back and arms from where she'd hit the desk.

Once done, she stopped and looked at the mirror again, though she focused on her hair instead of her bruise this time.

Her hair had gotten longer, almost to her waist instead of her breasts. She despised it when it got so long; it was a hassle when it reached her shoulders with how it always got in the way of her blading, never mind anything else!

Suddenly a thought struck her. It was clear Lee hated her now and the only reason she'd even kept it long was because Lee said it looked pretty like that, so why not cut it? She hated it and she was pretty sure being "pretty" didn't matter much now, so why deal with it any longer?

Smiling, Mariah left the bathroom; coming back minutes later with a pair of sharp scissors and a hair elastic. Pulling her hair back in a pony tail that ended just at her neckline, Mariah took one deep breath before cutting it off, smiling as she did it.

Pulling the elastic out she smiled as she ran her hands through her dark pink locks. It looked good, perhaps not as good as it could look if done by a professional, but still good.

Grinning at the mirror, Mariah turned and left the bathroom, her eyes trained on the bags of clothes she'd gotten earlier. She couldn't wait to show them off.

* * *

**Yo, hope you all liked this one! My favourite part's probably Mariah's, what do you all think?**  
**Please tell me in a Review!**  
**Sincerely,**  
**BlackRoseGirl666**


	6. Lovers and Lost Ones

**(Same Day, 9:11pm)**

Max squeezed Tyson's hand as more nervous energy ran through his body.

All around him sat his new teammates, or not so new really, seeing as he had been on a team with all of them before, except for one. It was that one they were all waiting for now.

Mariah Wong; pink haired and pretty with a bubbly and girly personality, she could blade well but she was currently on the outs of the entire beyblading community after her part in driving off Ray. No one outside of her teammates had talked to her since and no one had really wanted to.

And he was going to be teammates with her.

That said; Max really couldn't see how anyone could blame him for being more than a little nervous at being forced to be around her again. What if the others decided to shun him by association? What if Ray got mad at him? What if she made a big fuss about him dating Tyson?

There were so many questions and concerns to worry about; hell, he didn't even know why she had decided to leave her old team! Weren't the White Tigers supposed to be all for loyalty or something?

_How does someone make such a drastic decision like that almost overnight? _Max thought to himself.

The last time he had seen her she had looked a little pale but that was reasonable, she was probably feeling guilty about what she had done to Ray but...could that be all of it? Max doubted it. Even if guilt did have something to do with it Max didn't see how changing teams would do anything to help her feel less guilty.

If anything, changing teams would only get Mariah branded as a traitor in the public's eye, same as with the good majority of bladers out there and then her own original team and the White Tiger Village... Max just didn't see how changing teams could benefit Mariah, no matter what scenario he came up with.

Max didn't get any more time to contemplate this as only seconds later the door to Mr Dickinson's office was thrown open, revealing a version of Mariah Wong none of them had ever known existed.

She wasn't dressed for blading: but that was understandable, seeing as none of them were, but that wasn't the shocker.

In a move that vaguely resembled the Blitzkrieg Boys earlier that week, it looked as though Mariah had decided to completely reinvent herself.

Dressed in a pair of denim shorts that ended mid-thigh with black tights leading into ankle high grey boots and a bright turquoise tank top under a brown cropped leather jacket, Mariah looked like some kind of teenage superstar (which, really, she _was_but it wasn't like she'd actually looked it before!).

Jewellery in the form of a copper bracelet and a rather modest statement piece diamond necklace added a little bling, which was nicely accented by the reptile skin bag she had slung over her shoulder and her hair! Her once long pink locks were cut back into a short, messy bob that just helped to accent the angles that made her face so pretty.

All in all, Mariah looked hot as hell and not at all like the girl they remembered following Lee around like a little kitten. But, even all that couldn't draw their stares away from the horrible dark bruise that marred the perfectly tanned skin of her feline-like face.

The room was completely silent as Mariah took a seat a few chairs away from Kenny, who still had his eyes glued to her as she dumped her bag in the seat beside her before crossing her legs one over the other and raising her amber eyes to meet Mr Dickinson's.

Max restrained a gasp as her eyes flicked over him. They were so cold… it was like she'd just locked everything away; the bruise on her face didn't help soothe his thoughts either.

Clearing his voice, Mr Dickinson offered the five teens sitting around his office a somewhat reassuring smile as he folded his hands in front of him on his desk, "Ah, Mariah my dear girl! It's nice to see you again! You look beautiful; but I must ask, did a mistake in your training cause that bruise?" Mr Dickinson asked, trying to convey his concern in a casual light when really he had known since she had walked in that the bruise on her face was the result of anything _but_a training accident.

Mr Dickinson had seen plenty of those in his time in the beyblading industry and never before had he seen a bruise like that before. When a beyblade hits you, especially if it was exiting the dish when you were hit, the sharp edges of the blade tended to cut into what they hit, meaning that bruise like that would be impossible.

That bruise looked like it was made by something strong but blunt, like a baseball bat or a fist. _Almost like..._ Mr Dickinson gulped, _someone had struck her._Mr Dickinson frowned, his smile losing some of its light as he thought about how scarily possible that was. Perhaps he should have sent a guard with her when she went to go tell her brother she was switching teams?

Mariah took a mental deep breath and pasted a purely plastic smile onto her face, praying to every different kind of deity she had ever heard of that Mr Dickinson and the rest of her future teammates would just buy what she said and leave her alone.

"Yeah, I was doing a running circuit last night a little before midnight. I guess it was a pretty stupid idea to do it so late at night as I lost focus and tripped, smashed my face right into the side of the treadmill before I went down too, now I have this little mark as a reminder," Mariah said, letting out a small regretful sigh at one point during her story before pasting on another, less bright half-smile.

She mentally sighed in relief as she saw Mr Dickinson and the rest of her team relax back into their seats, still looking a little worried, but not as concerned as before.

Mariah literally felt the tension melt from her as they accepted her lie. _Maybe this won't be so bad,_Mariah thought absently as she too relaxed back into her seat.

Everything was going perfectly to her plans and she couldn't wait to see where it would take her.

She just hoped she didn't wind up jinxing herself along the way.

* * *

**(Next Day, 2:27pm) **

Sighing for the hundredth time that day, Ray started to gently message the sides of his head in an attempt to fend off the evil headache he felt coming on.

He was going on the fourth hour of watching Bryan and Tala scrap over what Bryan was going to wear to this stupid dance thingy and so far the only thing that had been decided was that Tala was incredibly creative with threatening people (going so far as to threaten to cut off said falcon's lower extremities with a plastic spork) and that he was extremely glad that he didn't know Arabic if the wince on Bryan's face was anything to go by.

Grimacing as Tala screeched something back at Bryan, Ray clapped his hands over his ears and hunkered down further into the couch he'd taken refuge on. Dear gods, couldn't they argue quietly?

"TALA! SHUT UP! CAN YOU NOT SEE YOUR BITCHING IS GOING TO BE THE END OF ME!"

"NO! I WILL NOT SHUT UP, YOU ASS! AND YOU'RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH TONIGHT!"

SLAP!

"FUCK!"

No. Apparently not.

Sighing once again Ray pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his head against them. _I wonder if Tala would notice if I just left..._

"AND RAY KON, DON'T YOU EVEN THINK OF LEAVING! I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND YOU SOMETHING TO WEAR YET!" Well, there was his answer.

Suddenly, Ray felt a pair of amazingly strong arms wrap around him and immediately began to collapse into them. Ray could almost feel Kai's smirk as the older boy placed a kiss on his forehead, causing Ray to tilt his head back and his gaze to colloid with Kai's beautiful crimson eyes.

"What did I miss?" Kai asked, slipping gracefully onto the bright red loveseat Ray had previously occupied alone with the ease of a large jungle cat, drawing Ray closer to him once he was settled.

Feeling his headache begin to seep away as Kai drew soothing circles onto his back, Ray let a small smile slip onto his face and proceed to explain the circumstances of Tala and Bryan's latest 'lover's quarrel'.

"Bryan was yapping about how stupid the dance was and how we should all just show up in sweats because dressing up would be a waste of time, Tala overheard and became offended that Bryan would care so little about how we, more specifically he, looked, and from there on things just snowballed and now we have this," Ray said tiredly, gesturing to the scrapping lovers, flying insults, destroyed furniture and the various things that had been used as weapons. "They've been going for about four and a half hours now," Ray finished, burying his head into Kai's shoulder.

"And why have you been sitting here watching them? You know how loud and well, dangerous they get," Kai asked, slightly concerned as he ducked a vase that Bryan had thrown at Tala after that aforementioned redhead had whacked him with a table leg which had once belonged to the coffee table, that had once upon a time sat in the centre of the room. The vase hit hard against the wall behind him before landing on the floor with a shattering crash.

Ray sighed and continued to explain.

"Tala was right in the middle of deciding what I was going to wear when the fight started, he won't let me go for fear I might disappear again and he won't be able to find me and really, I don't feel like arguing with him when he's fighting with Bryan," Ray finished, casting a: you-better-not-be-laughing glare up at his lover when he heard Kai's tell-tale snort.

Kai just smiled innocently back at him and captured Ray's lips in a soul-scorching kiss, successfully drawing the other boy's attention away from his laughter.

Breaking the kiss and wanting more Ray turned his attention back to the still fighting twosome. Sighing at the destruction that the duo had inflicted on the once orderly living room, Ray pushed himself up out of Kai's embrace and made his way over to Bryan and Tala.

Summoning all his anger into one glare Ray stepped in between the two.

"If you two do not shut the fuck up right this minute, I can assure you that the menu for the next several weeks will consist of nothing but vegetables and soy beans and if it somehow slips to Ian that you two are responsible for that well...I just hope you'll keep a very close eye on your blades," Ray finished, giving the two now frozen in horror bladers a smile so sweet it was evil.

"Now if you don't mind I'm going to go make a call to Spencer and tell him of my warning so you won't be able to suck him into cooking and then finish packing. Kai and I decided earlier that we would be leaving sometime around six for Dickinson's dance and I really hope you'll be ready by then and Bryan?" Said older boy gulped. "No sweat pants."

After receiving a nod from Bryan, Ray smiled once more before grabbing Kai's arm and pulling him from the room, the older teen making no move against him or his actions.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Ray turned and shouted. "AND THAT LIVING ROOM BETTER BE CLEAN AGAIN BEFORE WE LEAVE!" Hearing two resounding gulps from his fellow teammates Ray continued walking with a smirk on his face.

Or at least he did before he felt Kai wrap his arms around his waist, successfully catching the younger Chinese teen by surprise before spinning him around, taking his lips hostage once again with a fiery kiss that only someone so familiar with the ways of a flame could conjure.

Wrapping his one arm around Kai's neck Ray let his other arm move up the Phoenix's chest, tracing the strong muscles that showed up through Kai's grey tank top, moving upwards until he found himself tracing the swirling flames of Kai's phoenix tattoo.

Breaking apart temporarily for air Ray almost lost all the breath he had gathered as Kai kissed a searing line of butterfly kisses up the side of his neck, erecting a moan from the younger boy as Kai stopped at the top of his ear to play with the small stud located there.

Moving his hands slowly from Ray's waist down to his hips and then upwards again, this time going under the lose fabric of the black shirt Ray had grabbed from Kai's room to feel Ray's perfectly sculpted muscles and smooth golden skin. Separating his mouth from Ray's neck only long enough to remove the offending piece of material, Kai paused for a moment to take in the sight that was his lover.

Ray was backed up against the wall, crouched slightly in order to hold himself up and panting, his golden gaze watching Kai with an ever present innocence that Kai found irresistibly seductive.

Biting back a possessive growl Kai eagerly kissed a trail of slightly harsher kisses down Ray's chest, leaving multiple small bite marks along his collarbone as he got lower towards Ray's bellybutton, which was decorated with a gold hoop which he immediately started playing with upon discovery, causing countless moans and gasps from his lover's lips.

Ray moaned once more as he felt Kai's lips trail over his body, oh gods, this needed to stop.

Or at least they needed to get to their room before it went any further.

"Kai," Ray said, or more like breathed, really.

"Hn." Typical.

"N...n.. Not here." Ray would have done anything to lose the bloody stutter that had crept into his voice, but really, he didn't know a person alive that didn't stutter under Kai Hiwatari's patented 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me' look.

"Ray-"

"Do you remember when Tala caught us going at it the last time you were impatient?"

Kai froze.

Ray smirked.

He'd won.

"Fine," Kai bit out, hooking his hands under Ray's already bent legs and lifting him up. Consequently Ray wrapped his arms around Kai's neck and his legs around Kai's waist in response, almost immediately welding his mouth to Kai's in an electrifying kiss once he was secure in Kai's arms.

Stumbling almost drunkenly down the hallway Kai moaned into Ray mouth as the younger boy let one talented hand run over any part of Kai he could reach, expertly taunting and teasing him while the his mouth kept all thought of physical retaliation from Kai's mind.

Finally, after a few more clumsy steps, Kai's hand collided with the sliver knob of his and Ray's room.

Deftly throwing the door open, Kai quickly tripped his way into the room; resting his hand against the back of Ray's head and pushing their lips even closer together, leaving Ray's other leg to dangle and the younger teen's arm to tighten around his neck.

Kicking the door shut behind him Kai gently dropped Ray down onto their bed, enjoying how the raven haired teen bounced slightly on the bright red/black sheets before attacking the younger teen's mouth with the same urgency Ray had used on Kai.

Tearing his gaze away from Ray's red stained face, Kai glanced at the red digital clock on the black wood nightstand. 2:46pm. That meant he had roughly three hours until six when they were supposed to leave for the dance thing, minus half an hour for getting dressed equals...

Roughly two and-a-half hours of free time!

Kai smirked, turning his attention back to Ray gorgeous body; revelling in how frantic his lover's heartbeat was beneath his fingertips, almost matching with his rushed breathing. His light pink lips were swollen and moist and wanting, his raven coloured hair splayed out around his head like a halo of inky black, his beautiful amber eyes staring up at him, glazed over and slit like a cat's...

Oh yeah, Kai would definitely make good use of that free time.

* * *

**Hey! It's me again! Surprisingly less late than usual! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed that little half limey thingy, that's my first try at any really serious sexish writing! Hope I didn't do too bad! Anyway, hope you all liked/loved or at the very least got some kind of happy out of this chapter! Oh, and thanks for all the Reviews! The more Reviews the more likely I am to remember to update!**

**Please Review!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	7. First Shot

**(Same Day, 7:13pm)**

Emily York sighed the sigh of the long-suffering as she slumped back against the light cream walls of the BBA's main ballroom, a martini glass with something bright and colourful in it clutched limply in her satin gloved hand. Disenchanted blue-grey eyes watched in resigned silence as her fellows danced and chatted and generally showed themselves off for the camera-toting men and their classily-dressed hosts that stood scattered around the room.

She frowned at the presence of the cameras, her mind dragging her back to the days when only the World Championships and a couple of the hand-picked charity events were televised. It seemed they'd grown passed that, hadn't they?

_But at least I had a chance to get used to it,_she thought as she watched one such media hound stalk over to a group of newbies, all girls, who didn't look like they knew if they should be fearful or excited at the attention.

Then again, it was amazing she could tell anything at all from their faces; caked in makeup as they were.

_At least they look good,_ a poisonous little voice said in the back of her mind. _I bet Michael wouldn't miss a beat if one of them looked at him._

Emily popped her head back and chugged the rest of her drink with little care if someone got a picture of it. Fuck'em, if it got her insecurities to shut up she was okay with her alcohol consumption being called into question.

Or at least she was now. In the morning, well… the saying 'that was then and this is now' had to have gotten its popularity from somewhere, right?

Besides, it wasn't like she didn't know she wasn't pretty. Anyone with eyes could realize that. She didn't need to hear it from the voices in her head as well.

Even as she was, dressed in the best her multi-million dollar paycheque and Judy's fashion team's fashion sense could provide, she knew she wasn't a gem.

Her dress was made of a solid black, sleeveless bodice, with a turtleneck and a skirt made up of numerous layer of white chiffon. She had black nylons and creamy silk gloves that went up as close to her shoulders as possible covering her arms and legs, while a pair of black flats with white bows on the toes and a pearl necklace completed her outfit. Her makeup was minimal and mostly neutral but for the rosy pink lipstick her makeup artist had insisted on. Her hair was back to itself, hiding her earing-less ears and her glasses were still firmly in place despite the stylist and his assistants' constant coaxing.

Her freckles were persistently there, despite the layers of foundation, her hair had lost its careful curls minutes after they'd been put in and her eyes always burned when she put contacts in or wore mascara. Her arms and legs had to be covered because they were scarred from scratched out bug bites she'd gotten before she'd known she would be on national TV and far too pale. Her skirt was so fluffy because she had no curves. The list of why she was a bad choice for beautiful went on.

Compared to the exotic beauties from the Rena-Blades, with their dark skin and bright dresses, or from the Bey-Angels with their pure, snow-white skin and dark dresses; she was nothing.

_But then_, Emily thought with resignation as Michael waltzed up to one of the Rena-Blades and asked her to dance, _the way people are acting I guess even Julia is outstripped by them._

Not that looks mattered a whit when it came to beyblade. Personally, Emily thought she'd rather enjoy herself when it came time to see what these newbies could do; according to her calculations it shouldn't be much, but then that would likely make beating them that much sweeter for the rest of the world's 'looks challenged' (as Michael had put it so sweetly) girls like Emily.

Still, even the thought of viciously crushing their blading spirits under her comfy white tennis shoes couldn't help her now, Emily found, as she watched the tall, gorgeous amazon of a woman from the Rena-Blades start grinding herself up against Michael.

Sighing in general sadness over her situation, the usually feisty redhead let her head fall back against the wall the rest of her was propped up against.

It wasn't even like she cared what Michael did. He was a skirt chasing twit, that had been letting his skills slip for the last year and a half who needed a killer reality check. It was just… if she couldn't get the resident horn-dog interested in her, how could she hope to get her actual crush's attention?

If she couldn't get _Michael_ to look at her, then how could she ever possibly conceive that a self-respecting and very conservative _girl_would look at her?

Yeah, that was right. Emily York swung _"that way"_and if you had an issue with it, well then, the door was to the right, bitches.

Besides; after Max and Tyson and Kai and Ray had all come out it, wasn't like it was all that big a deal anymore anyway. The only thing really unique about it was that Emily was a girl and the girl Emily wanted likely wouldn't want to be anywhere near her in _"that way."_

And, as if her night couldn't possibly be any crappier, Ray and the other Blitzkrieg Boys had arrived just an hour ago; meaning that for the last hour all anyone had been doing was watching and talking as the resident poster boys for love and romance waltzed around the dance floor as if they owned it.

Emily had pulled her eyes away from the duo once she realized she was staring, but really; who could blame her? Kai and Ray just suited each other so nicely and they both looked just so gorgeous out there on the dance floor together.

Kai was dressed solidly in a black (most likely Armani) suit, which was obviously tailored to fit no one but him, with a black dress shirt that had the first few buttons undone and no tie. Gold cufflinks glittered at his wrists and she thought she saw the Hiwatari signet ring on his left hand, but it was hard to tell with how quickly he was moving around the floor with Ray.

The black haired teen was also dressed in a black suit (though his didn't do up at the front like Kai's) and his dress shirt was both done up properly (even if it was un-tucked) and a rich crimson colour. Much like his boyfriend, Ray seemed to have forgone a tie, but in its place hung a circular silver pendant. It was beautiful and hit about mid-chest with the image of a clawed animal print made of some kind of black stone set on the face of it.

They laughed and murmured to each other as they danced and, when they kissed softly, it seemed like every camera in the room flashed in sync.

(Though, she noticed in amusement, not one of them dared approached the couple. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that, as heir to Hiwatari Corp., Kai could ruin each and every one of them with a snap of his fingers and a phone call?)

Sighing deeply, Emily turned her head to the door, mentally ticking off who had arrived and who was late. Pretty much everyone was already present; The Battalion and F Dynasty had arrived first with her team, the All Star League sans Tyson and Max because well, because of _'circumstances,'_if what Judy had said was to be believed. After they had arrived, the Majestics had entered with the newbies straggling in after them and the Blitzkrieg Boys entering together in one rowdy group a little later.

Then had come three members of the White Tigers, who had been so quickly dragged off to one of the 'quiet' rooms by the press that no one had had a chance to even consider asking them where Mariah was before they were gone.

Pushing herself up from her spot on the wall, Emily moved over to sit at one of the stools lining the elegant bar that stood in one corner of the room. Judging from the glances that the more caring members of her team were throwing her, Emily guessed that she was looking just slightly too depressed standing up against the wall. At the bar she could at least pretend she was just taking a break from the party instead of musing over the things she knew she'd never have.

* * *

Mariah straitened the edge of her dress nervously as she fidgeted in the back seat of the limo which she and her new teammates were arriving in. Lights from the never sleeping heart of Beycity coloured her and Hilary, who had claimed the other back seat of the limo, in different shades as they passed.

Breathing in deeply, Mariah tried to push all her thoughts from her mind, but only half succeeded. Her stomach was doing funny little flip-flop motions at fast intervals as the limo came closer to the BBA building and then ultimately, the BBA dance.

Where her old team was waiting for her to show up.

Where her skills of self-restraint would be put to the test.

Where she desperately hoped she wouldn't screw up.

Laughing quietly to herself at her last thought, Mariah once again thanked the gods for cover up; the bruise, while still there and still painful, could no longer be seen thanks to the wonderful little bottle of magic she had applied to her upper cheek earlier.

Of course, if anyone were to touch her there then the makeup would rub off and she would be left to answer some rather awkward questions. But seriously, who was even going to even come near her tonight? All she had to do was avoid her old teammates and act polite and happy to anyone that sent her a glance.

It was going to be easy.

So then why did she feel so nervous about it?

* * *

Ray smiled once again as Kai spun him around to face him, a slightly teasing light in his eyes as their lips met up in a sweet kiss which was quickly ended when Ray grabbed Kai's other hand and disappeared from the phoenix's trap.

It was a game the two had unconsciously started playing a quarter of the way into the evening, seeing who could out-manoeuvre the other best as they danced. Unannounced to them was how lovely it looked as the band continued to play, the lead singer's soft voice picking up the highs and lows of some contemporary romance song the lyrics of which only made half-sense.

Breathing out a content sigh, Ray allowed his phoenix to twirl him one more time before the song ended and then to lead him off the dance floor and over to where Bryan and Tala sat, with their chairs back to back and some kind of drink in hand, as they both glared maliciously at the rest of the occupants in the room.

Rolling his eyes, Ray turned to Kai; "you take Bryan, I'll take Tala," the raven-haired Neko-Jin whispered in his dancing partner's ear, a long suffering moan as his only answer.

Smiling, Ray pecked his boyfriend on the cheek before leaving said black-clad boy and pulling a chair up beside the stewing redhead. Ray cast an amber-eyed glare over his shoulder when he noticed said aforementioned boyfriend had not removed a certain grey-eyed teen, who sat inconveniently behind him and the redhead, fast enough.

Kai winced at the dark foreboding brewing in his lover's eyes and hastily dragged Bryan to his feet. A harsh warning look from his crimson eyes was all that was needed to silence any outbursts that the falcon might have had as the slate haired teen hurriedly dragged the older blader out of the room.

All the while, the red-eyed youth cursed himself for teaching his boyfriend how to glare so well and Bryan, on the other hand, just had the phrase of _'evil only answers to greater evil' _running through his head as his friend continued to mutter about evil Nekos under his breath.

Sighing half-heartedly, Ray readjusted himself in his seat so that he was facing the teen beside him. Said teen was slumped over in his chair with his elbows resting on his knees and his head cradled in his hands with an icy glare on his face that made several people flinch.

Tala, as per usual, looked stunning. His suit, in contrast to Ray and Kai's, was a stark white that fit him perfectly, with a rather eccentric orange silk dress shirt underneath and a silver tie. His hair was still tied back and his blue eyes were downcast.

He and Bryan had been cooling it by the bar since they'd arrived, but apparently Bryan had done something to piss Tala off, because even from where he and Kai had been dancing they could feel the pissed off vibes coming from Tala.

"Okay, what's he done now?" the Neko asked, a clearly bored and somewhat resigned tone taking over what he was hoping to be a sympathetic sentence.

Bracing himself for a glare that he was sure was would come, Ray found himself oddly let down when no such angry expression was cast his way. Dipping his head down lower so that he could catch the redhead's, Ray saw that Tala usual grinning/sneering/snickering face was screwed up in something he wasn't used to seeing on the redhead; shock.

Sitting up straight, Ray felt his own face screw up in shock and confusion as he looked in the same direction as Tala.

There, standing tall and more grown-up than Ray thought she'd ever have the guts to look, was Mariah. Her hair was short (far shorter than would ever be allowed in the village) and curled around her face, and her eyes were surrounded by dark black makeup that make her look a little dangerous. Her dress was so dark pink it was almost purple with a deep V-neck and spaghetti straps with an uneven hem that ended at her knees at the highest. It fluttered when she walked and Ray, through all his shock at seeing her like that, couldn't help but think of how well it suited her.

Max and Tyson stood beside her with Hilary, Kenny and Daichi following them, but they didn't get much more attention than just a spare glance here and there before the media begun swimming around Mariah.

From what Ray could catch, Mariah answered the reporters' questions with a wide, pink smile and easy grace. Tyson eventually said something though and the entire pack shifted back to him, just in time for Lee and the other two members of the White Tigers to leave the quiet room with the media hound who had drawn them away at the beginning of the party.

Mariah was smiling sweetly beside Tyson when Lee caught sight of her, though something almost smug was dancing in her eyes.

Ray felt his stomach tighten as he caught where her smug look was being sent, Lee stood ridged and clearly pissed off as his sister stared down at him, his mouth hanging open in silent shock and his eyes wide and angry.

Ray only had enough time to think one more thing before the air was filled with a large bout of loud, angry Chinese and that one thought was:

_Oh, shit!_

* * *

**Well then, I hope you all liked that! And I also beg your forgiveness when it comes to how bloody late this thing came in! I mean I swear I started it just after I posted chapter 6 but it just never got past being started! **

**Anyway, enough with my whining. I hope you all liked this chapter very much and don't want to rip/tear/maim me anymore!**

**Ps: Please Review! As you all know those little things make me very happy and tend to remind me I still have a story to write!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	8. Aphrodite's Touch in Japan

_**August 5th, 2012**_

_**Show Down at the BBA!**_

_As many of our avid readers know, yesterday night (August 4th, 2012) was the date of the much-awaited BBA Reunion Dance. Bladers from every walk of life turned out for the event in their absolute best to the BBA Building in downtown Beycity to talk, dance and offer the public a down-to-earth look at how the young stars of today have fun._

_Unfortunately, the fun soon dissolved into a cluster of hate and anger when Captain Lee Wong (age 18) of the rather controversial World Champion team the White Tigers caught a look at his younger sister, Mariah Wong._

_Miss Wong (17) has been a rather silent contributor to the controversy that surrounds her team (or should we say former?) up until recently when she arrived in a stunning dress that hugged her body in tasteful, classically modern way that earned her major fashion points with the public (see page 46, Who Wore What?)._

_During a short interview with the talented young blader, it was revealed that just the day before she had switched teams; joining up with long-time champ Tyson Granger (18), his adorable boyfriend Max Tate (17), Hilary Tatibana (17), Daichi Sumeragi (14) and Kenny "The Chief" Saien (16) in a controversial move by head chairman of the BBA, Mr. Dickinson, to create a brand new team which will be representing Japan in the World Championships._

_According to an informant who wishes to remain unnamed, when Mr. Wong was told of the switch he was unreasonable in his anger, going so far as to swear that if Miss Wong ever came near him again he would "teach her a lesson" for being so "insolent". Video records from the hotel show that Miss Wong actually left her brother's hotel room clutching her face and later we received word that her room had been changed to one a on a different floor; could these be signs of a violent physical relationship between the two? And if so, how long has their relationship been in this state?_

_Dr. Yumiko Nagako of the Beycity Family Centre had this to say:_

_"It's not uncommon for a pair of siblings to fight from time to time, but from what this evidence suggests it seems to me that Miss Wong could very well be in a very harmful situation. I commend her for having the strength to leave such an environment, though I would warn friends of hers to pay particular attention to Miss Wong in regards of her behaviour and emotions; she's gone through a lot of changes in a very short time period and that would be enough to bring anyone to a breaking point, let alone a young sports starlet who's spent who knows how long in such a negative space."_

_This, of course, also stirs up the long forgotten questions of what really happened that stormy night a year ago during what has become known as "The Ray Incident." Is it possible that Ray Kon (18) was also experiencing such negativity during his term on the team? What kind of altercation really happened behind those hotel doors that night and what part in it did Miss Wong play? Apparently a rather forgivable one if the way Mr Kon defended his old teammate once Mr. Wong said something rather threatening in his, and the other former and current White Tigers', language (an old form of Cantonese we're still translating) and raised his fist in a motion to strike the girl, therefore just adding more credence to the theory of physical violence being a part of the atmosphere in the White Tigers' team._

_Later that evening, at around eleven, Misters Kon and Hiwatari were seen leaving with Miss Wong between them; the trio has not been spotted since._

_In other news; the teams for this year's World Championships –_

Mariah put down the magazine with a soft sigh before shutting her eyes and letting her head fall back against the seat of the bullet train that was currently taking them from Beycity to Tokyo. The BBA had reserved a whole car for the teams in first class and most people were now either taking the two hour long ride as an excuse to sleep or gossip. Mariah was using it as a period for introspection.

The last night had been hectic in ways she hadn't expected; from the swarms of reporters to her brother's reaction to her… it had been horrible. Mariah hadn't realized there were so many ways to be called a "sinful, disgusting slut" in her home language.

It was safe to say she desperately hoped those reporters never managed to translate what was said that night.

And it had been going so well too, she thought sadly; she and her new team had been having a pleasant time before Lee had started yelling, even if they'd been cornered by the media for most of it. Though she had to admit, it was nice to get a little attention every once in a while; especially when most of it wasn't negative or untruthful.

Even today's article she was mostly fine with. Sure, in an ideal world there would be no article but at least nothing was blown horribly out of proportion; even though she would be interested to know how they'd come across those hotel records and who it was who'd informed them on Lee's freak-out.

Mariah smiled a little; and even after Lee lost it she guessed last night hadn't been all horrible either; after all, her fight with Lee had been the catalyst to her now-healing relationship with Ray, something she'd never thought she'd have the chance to have again.

"You ran too fast Ray," she remembered telling him as they stood in the BBA bathroom they'd taken over, Kai standing outside the door to keep anyone from barging in while they talked.

(And probably to make sure Ray didn't get hurt again, she added mentally.)

She'd told him everything that night. About how she'd tried finding him, how she'd signed up for every social site she could find to see if he'd be there; how she'd been basically kept prisoner by her brother, about why she'd left the team and how she'd managed it. It had been the longest, most heart-wrenching three hours of her life, but it had been worth every second of it when Ray had pulled her into his arms and held her like he'd done before when they were just children.

Now they had a late-lunch date for three pm today. Apparently Ray knew a place they could go where they wouldn't be mobbed and he thought it would be a good thing for them to do together. Mariah had agreed right there and then in the taxi cab that was taking them back to the hotel and Ray had grinned brightly while Kai had just looked on blankly as per usual, though, Mariah could have sworn his eyes had regarded her less coldly than they had before.

Now though, Ray was sitting with his team, chatting with Kai while Tala and Bryan sat icily next to each other, Spencer read and Ian played on his PS3 or whatever. Originally she'd entertained the idea of going and sitting with them, if only to assuage how awkward she knew she looked surrounded by the pairs and trios of laughing bladers, but that felt too strange to her. The only one she knew out of their team was Ray and besides, she didn't want to make him feel like she was crowding him like she'd done when she was younger.

So, seeing as her actual team was boxed in by other bladers who they were chatting animatedly with, she'd gone to the front of the train, grabbed a seat by the window and prepared to spend the two-hour trip to Tokyo in silence with just her iPod, her BBA School workbooks and her introspection.

Seeing as she'd mostly finished with her introspecting (the only thing she had left to ponder over really was her brother; and she knew she couldn't do that without tears) she pulled out her iPod (a cute little hot pink Nano, seeing as anything above it was too advanced for her technologically), flicked to a playlist made up of The Pistol Annies, The Pretty Reckless and a few other bands that had appealed to her and was just about to start working on her ninth grade math workbook (hey, she was smart but math was a fucking bitch) when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Blinking away the numbers that were dancing in front of her eyes and pulling a white ear bud from her ear, Mariah turned her head to see the five foot ten frame of one Emily York standing in front of her.

The older ginger haired girl was dressed for comfort in a pair of plain blue jeans and a deep purple sweater under her All-Stars jacket; thrown over her shoulder was the strap of her computer case and her luggage sat by her black Puma-clad feet. Her hair, the colour of fire in the light from the window, was free around her face and her strange stormy eyes sparkled intelligently behind her glasses, which covered a good portion of her makeup-less face.

Mariah, dressed in a Jones New York knee-length olive green sundress with elegant brown leather boots and her cropped brown jacket, felt like her complete opposite in every way. From Emily's lack of jewellery to Mariah's perfectly paired gold hoops and opal ring to Emily's simple hair and Mariah's short (and recently professionally styled) pink bob; if they had looked more alike facially they could be compared to a before and after add, Mariah thought privately.

Though that didn't take away from what Mariah thought of Emily. In all actuality, it was their opposite-ness that had originally led Mariah to thinking of her so often.

And in ways that would make the Elders of the White Tiger Hills Village keel over from continuous heart attacks.

Normally, the thought of what the Elders would do to her if they ever found out about her thoughts would be enough to make Mariah do everything possible to cover up her less-than-approvable attraction; thus why she and Emily had such a… fiery, to say the least, rivalry. Now though, she was free to do as she pleased.

Flashing Emily a fuchsia pink-lipped smile Mariah cocked an eyebrow at the ginger haired girl in a 'what-do-you-need?' kind of expression.

The redhead stiffened a little before speaking in her typically proper way (which Mariah just grinned brighter at, making Emily roll her eyes).

"I was wondering if I could sit beside you," Emily said bluntly, no question intended. "My seat's been taken over by Michael and his chocolate-dipped bimbo over there and this is the last seat left," she said by way of explanation, jerking a thumb in the general direction of where the All Stars had gathered.

Mariah turned a little to see where Emily was pointing to and, just as the other teen had said, there sat Michael with one of the dark-skinned Brazilian girls. She was hot, Mariah could concede, but if the way she was pawing Michael was anything to go by, she obviously didn't have very high standards.

Turning away from Michael and his newest conquest (or really, conquered territory; as it looked by the way she had her legs slung over his lap) Mariah sighed before clearing her crap off the seat beside her and dumping it by her feet. She guessed there were worse people one could be stuck with than their semi-maybe-probably lesbian crush (or was there no worse person?) and it wasn't like she could refuse and make Emily go and stand somewhere, now could she?

Though, that did seem to be the thing Emily expected of her; Mariah didn't think the ginger girl's eyebrows could climb much higher the way they were going.

Not that Mariah minded much; shocked was a good look on Emily, she thought with a little mental giggle.

Besides, maybe, if she played her cards right, she could get "the Smartest Teenager in Sports", as the media had coined it, to give her a hand with this stupid math work.

Seeing Emily was still standing there blinking a little stunned-like, Mariah promptly patted the seat a bit. "You know, there are more impressive things you could be doing than standing there like your head just imploded."

Emily blinked all of twice before slipping into the offered seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Humph, and those things are?"

Mariah grinned again (something she seemed to be doing a lot lately) and picked up her math book. "Like proving you're worth more than just being a pretty space-waster and helping me figure out how the hell this Algebra stuff works."

Emily's jaw dropped for a second before it snapped up again. "Yeah? And just why would you need to know something like that? Isn't your village more traditional?"

Ignoring the semi-subtle (and true) jab at her place of birth, Mariah proceeded to crack open her book and turn to the rather annoying mess of numbers and other shit she'd been trying to solve since she'd gotten up that morning.

"Yeah, but if you haven't read about it already, I'm not exactly allowed there anymore," she replied. Turning her head up, she looked up at the New Yorker head-on and was pleased when she managed not to blush. "Now, are you going to help me with this or not?"

"I –," Emily "said" (re: stammered) before sighing huffily and took the book from Mariah's hands, her freckles becoming pretty much unnoticeable against her flushed face as she started attempting to explain what Mariah had done wrong with her equation.

Smiling more softly than usual, Mariah decided that Emily looked even more cute than usual when she wasn't glaring menacingly.

* * *

From his place at the back of the train amongst the other Blitzkrieg Boys, Ray smiled softly over the edge of the book he'd pulled out. It was nice to see that Mariah wasn't going to be sitting alone for the next two hours; if anyone knew how detrimental quiet could be, it was probably Ray.

Then again, Ray thought to himself, it's nice to see Mariah again period.

Screw what people said about being able to lock old friends and family who'd hurt you out of your life forever; if you ever really loved them as much as you said and they came up to you and apologized for what they'd done and asked to have a relationship again then duh, of course you'd jump at the chance.

It was part of being human and a part that Ray both loved and hated daily.

Turning his eyes away from where he was covertly watching his form– … his current friend, Ray snuggled down contently against Kai's chest. Said phoenix was twisted so his back was up against the glass of the window with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed, leading the untrained eye to assume he was asleep.

The illusion was promptly shattered though when Kai switched position again, moving so he could wrap his arms more easily around Ray's shoulders, a little smile on his face that made Ray's heart melt.

"How you holding up?" he whispered quietly in Russian, making it obvious the words were for Ray only.

Ray hummed and slipped his eyes closed. He hadn't slept the night before due to his bubbling emotions, but those seemed to have decided to leave him alone for now; either that or he was too drained to worry over them right then.

"I'm good," he settled for, "just tired."

Kai leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Then sleep. Once we're off this train the press is going to be nuts; you don't want to face that half-dead."

Ray chuckled lightly before letting his head drift. It would only be about another hour before they were in Tokyo, with them catching a flight to Athens at nine the next day for the real start of the Championships; it was almost a surreal thought.

But at least they were out of the weeds drama-wise, right? This whole thing with Mariah and Lee had to be the end of it; now they just had to compete and have fun and avoid the semi-more-normal-ish sports media, right?

A chill chased itself along Ray's spine.

He hoped.

* * *

**Oooh, ominous, hum? Very sorry about how late this chapter is but, honestly, I'm surprised I wasn't getting flamed for this thing. My spelling and punctuation… gah! I must have a Review Guardian Angel or something.**

**Anyway, yes that does mean a redid this thing again *stands there and takes it while readers curse her to death* and I kind of really messed with some stuff (like a lot) so it might be a good idea to go back and reread it *apologizes profusely.***

**One of the things a messed with? Well, the ocs I've added for one. Now no one have a raging heart attack or anything, the only reason they're there is so I have some teams to kill off in the beginning without making me feel bad. That and ocs are a hell of fun making and breaking, if you get what I mean**

**So yeah, no one spazz on me for that. The ocs are not important at all.**

**Anyway, sorry for the lateness. Please Review!**

**Also! PLEASE CHECK OUT THE POLL ON MY PROFILE! It's about which story I start next and I want to know what you guys think! ****And: BETA READERS! I'm, looking for one to read over my **_**Vampire Knight, Naruto, Maximum Ride**_** and **_**(Future!) Hetalia**_** ficts; so if any of you are qualified and able please tell me! Basically what I'm looking for is another pair of eyes who can read over my stuff, correct any spelling, punctuation and tense issues in my writing and have it back to me in a week. They'd also need to be okay with guyxguy and girlxgirl (duh) and be fluent in English (double duh). If you or someone you know is interested, please PM me!**

**Sincerely and thank you,**  
**BlackRoseGirl666**


	9. All Forms of Misery Love Company

Max Tate wasn't considered a threat very often. It was something that had irked him originally but he'd learned to accept it and use it to his advantage; after all, the less menacing and abrasive the opponent, the less you put into the preparation for that match, leaving you open and often unprepared.

And, as a blader who specialized in defense, it was those open spots and the general unpreparedness of his opponents that, even after all these years, still often helped win Max the match.

Plus, Max was a generally nice guy. He didn't like being mean, touchy and moody. It wasn't fun for him or anyone else and it wasn't like being miserable solved anything; it just brought your quality of life down and got you labeled as "needing help."

Max by nature was the complete opposite. He was light and airy and accepting. He was the sweet and innocent and the basic personification of the dream child first-time parents always pictured when they imagined kids; never throwing a fit or getting angry or doing anything against the rules.

Until you got him into the dish. That was when he let himself go. When he didn't have to be the sweet, good son anymore; when he didn't have to be the quiet, understanding child. He could fight and yell and feel that power swell inside himself and, for once, he could be in control. It was that, the control, that had originally lured him into beyblade in the first place, don't you know.

Unlike with the rest of his life, which was at the mercy of his parents and how long they could stand each other at a time; beyblade was something that they couldn't touch. It was something that the lawyers, the child psychiatrist his mother paid to tell her it wasn't her fault, the concerned teachers; _couldn't touch_.

The rest of him; they could do with as they wished. So long as he had his beyblade and, now, his boyfriend; he was good.

So when his mother had thought that she could just shove him away from the thing he loved most, well; that had struck a chord in Max.

It wasn't like she'd known that there was another team in the making. It wasn't like she'd looked into the rules to see if Max and Tyson would still be able to compete if she kicked them off the team. No, she'd just kicked them off the team, uncaring that she'd been possibly taking away their chance at competing in a completion that they'd slaved over for years.

And she still had the gall to call herself his mother.

_Heh_, Max thought with a dissatisfied mental snort; _coincidental DNA donor, more like it._

Really, at least his dad made an effort. Max knew how many opportunities his dad had turned down in order to keep them in Beycity and Max close to his friends; he knew that the Canadian BBA had made inquiries that his dad had rebuffed. He knew that his dad was hesitant about meeting people again because he didn't want Max getting close to someone who would just eventually wind up leaving again.

His dad, Max knew, was a great guy.

Absently, Max wondered if his mother had been a great girl before she'd gotten caught up in beyblade like she had. If, maybe, once-upon-a-time she'd been the kind of woman he could have really look up to.

What? You though all those loving words, all those understanding smiles, were real? Ha! Now, Max would consent that he was a little naïve in some things, and a little stupid in others, but in no way was he a doormat; truth be told he'd hardened his heart against the woman who'd birthed him _years_ ago.

Not that he'd ever tell anyone that.

Max smiled sadly and absently picked at the edge of muted green leather bey-gloves; there had been many times in the past that Max had lied about how he felt about his mother. Many a talk show host who had brightly asked him how cool it must be to be the son of such an important and interesting woman only to have Max talk brightly right back to each of them; letting a choreographed dance of adoring words slip off his tongue with the ease of a child who'd spent their younger years tricking their way out of a psychiatrist's office.

He would gush about how proud he was of her achievements and grin when he was asked about what it was like having such similar interests to his mother's because, well; _apparently_ not many young boys his age were as lucky as that.

And, when they eventually asked (because they _all_ did), he would quietly smile and reply that _of course_ he understood why his mother had to go so far to work before easily redirecting the question as far away from its original subject as possible.

He had never, ever told them about how many times he'd cried to his father after his mother had pushed him away in exchange for her work. He'd never, ever told them about what it felt like to know that you were being left behind for a piece of metal and plastic. He had never told them about how he sometimes spent his nights looking at his face in the mirror, seeing the resemblance and disgustedly wondering if he would turn out just like her.

He never, ever told them anything beyond what they thought they already knew.

But, sitting there beside Tyson on the train to Tokyo, knowing that if not for Mr. Dickinson's quick thinking and some horrible emotional drama from the White Tigers (once again) that they'd not be on a team… Max couldn't help but think that maybe it was time to stop spewing false crap and give his mother a taste of her own medicine.

But how? Max didn't want to be seen as some kind of pity case or, even worse, have it all blow up in his face like he'd seen happen with other celebrities who'd done the whole 'tell-all' thing; he just wanted people to know that it wasn't all life under the sun being the offspring of an award-winning workaholic.

He wanted people to know that his success as a blader and as a person had nothing to do with his mother; who hadn't done so much as tell him she loved him since he was a child. He wanted the world to know that the real Judy Tate, while brilliant and beautiful, was not the award winning mother they all thought of her as.

But he had no idea how to go about it.

Max sighed and settled his head back against the semi-soft headrest of the train seat, watching idly as the scenery flew by outside the window. What did he know, though? It wasn't like he was being abused or anything. Maybe he was just blowing it all out of proportion…

Max felt his eyes start to sting and bit down remorselessly on his lip. Suddenly he really wished he could call his dad. Taro Mizuhara (having recently gone back to his original Japanese surname) was probably the only person in the whole world Max was openly honest with and damn, right now Max would _kill_ to be able to talk to someone he knew wouldn't leave him if he said the wrong thing.

"Maxi?" Tyson asked from his place beside the blonde, concern in his big brown eyes and his head tilted to the side. "You okay?"

Max blinked up at his boyfriend for a second before placing a smile on his face. If he had to name someone, Tyson was probably the only person not related to him who he really could be crushed by; it was why he always tried to hold himself together around the bluenette.

_Not that you succeeded often_, a nasty little voice whispered from the back of his mind.

Max forced it down mercilessly.

"Yeah," the blonde answered his boyfriend, "just a little tired, Tyson."

Said boyfriend frowned for a second before looping one red jacket-covered arm over Max's shoulders; pulling him closer so that Max's head could rest on his shoulder.

"I'll tell the others to quiet down then; you've been through a lot lately, Maxi," the brunette said with sincere eyes before smiling. "Plus we've still got another hour to kill on this damn train and I think I might just join you this whole sleep thing," Tyson finished, making sure to stress the "I'll be sure to tell them to quiet down" bit so that everyone around them could hear it.

Max snickered and cuddled closer into Tyson's side; he guessed a nap couldn't hurt… maybe he'd know what to do when he woke up.

Besides, even if he didn't actually sleep the opportunity to cuddle up against Tyson's toned body was not one to be missed, no matter _what_ position you were in.

"Hm, just make sure you wake up again when I elbow you, kay?" he whispered into Tyson's ear, making his boyfriend laugh.

"You know, I'd probably shoot up faster if you woke me with a kiss, my Prince Charming," the bluenette mumbled, eyes dancing and his earlier concern gone.

Max's smile dimmed minutely, he always had been good at making people forget. Oh well, as long as Tyson wasn't worrying himself over nothing…

Leaning up to kiss Tyson on the cheek, he quietly whispered a murmured "you got it, Sleeping Beauty," before closing his eyes and focusing on drifting out. It wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be, seeing as he hadn't really slept properly since he'd found out about being asked to leave the All-Stars (the team name they'd gone back to using now that Max and Tyson weren't there) and Tyson's heartbeat had always been soothing to him.

Sighing, Max let his grasp on reality go; the steady thumping of Tyson's heartbeat assuring him that Tyson would still be with him when he woke up.

* * *

Tyson smiled as he felt Max finally relax into his side, his hand wrapped firmly in Tyson's shirt as if he were scared Tyson would try and leave him while he slept.

_And who knows_, Tyson thought bitterly, _maybe he is._

His Maxi was a good actor, Tyson would give the blonde that, but for all his "stupidity" and "ignorance" you would find no better people person than Tyson Granger. He could spot a faker in seconds and tell a friend from a foe in thirty. It was how he was able to keep faith in Kai despite his repeated dappling amongst the "bad guys" and how he knew so resolutely the fact that Boris was still a creepy fucker during the BEGA thing.

Tyson Granger was good with people. It was a fact of life, no matter how ignored it was.

And, while it had taken him longer than with most people to figure it out, he had eventually worked out that underneath his boyfriend's (and at the time, best friend's) naturally smiley personality was a whole mess of insecurities that, at first, seemed to come from nowhere.

As far as he had known, Max had had a great childhood; with a dad that was a hell of a lot more involved than Tyson's had been after his mother had died and a fairly good number of friends. Back then, he'd always just assumed that Max's mom did something further in the city or something and thus wasn't around a lot because of it, but was over all your typical mother-figure.

Then he had actually met Max's mother.

Oh boy, can you say ice bitch? It was enough to make Tyson stop complaining for a full week about his grandpa's crazy training just because he was so glad he didn't have to deal with that full-on. Not that he'd told Maxi about his opinions, of course; he hadn't wanted to make him mad, after all.  
Though, when he had found the blonde crying over said mother just a few days later and then several more times after that over the years, it had somehow become just that much harder to keep his tongue pinned down.

He'd done it, though. Because for all he despised Judy Tate, he loved Max and he would be damned if he messed up their relationship over not having enough self-restraint when it came to raging on his boyfriend's mother.

Now though, when he thought of the crushed look he'd caught in his boyfriend's deep blue eyes just moments ago, Tyson couldn't help but think that maybe even his Maxi was starting to lose some of his control when it came to the scientist known as Judy Tate; and that, Tyson knew, couldn't lead to anything good.

With a deep sigh, Tyson settled himself more against the soft padding of the first-class train seat and absently drew his fingers through Max's blonde locks. The train was mostly silent now with the good majority of bladers using the trip as a chance to catch up on sleep while others read or talked quietly.  
Something in Tyson told him that he'd best appreciate the peace while it lasted; it was the Championships after all and the universe knew that that could never go smoothly.

Especially with this many time bombs on board, the young champion thought with a drowsy smirk before moving closer to his boyfriend and joining him in sleep.

* * *

Hours later, after disembarking from the train and fighting their way through the hell that was the early afternoon traffic of Tokyo Japan, one Tala Ivanov found himself sitting on the roof of a stupidly expensive hotel in the heart of said place. A bottle of Russian vodka rested in his hands and his bare feet dangled off the edge of the building while what seemed like a billion people milled around below him; completely ignorant to the fact he was watching them.

_Which is a good thing_, Tala rationalized while taking a sip of the biting liquid he had cradled ever so closely to his thin body. If they saw him there they'd either chase him down for autographs or label him a suicide risk; probably both, actually; he decided after a second.

Then again, maybe they _should_ label him a suicide risk. After all, he was pretty sure dead people didn't feel like shit, as he did now, and it really wouldn't be so hard to just scooch forward a few more inches and drop off the side of the building. Hell, he was so far up he doubted he would even still be conscious when he hit the ground.

Tala blinked a little absently, he wondered if he'd crush anyone when he hit the dirt. Or cement, rather. Wouldn't that just be a crappy way for someone to go, though? Probably be just his luck, too…

Abruptly shaking his head, Tala cast a glare at the innocent-looking alcohol in his hand before casually wailing it at the raised roof entrance; watching in vague amusement as the fragile glass shattered in a spray of sharp sparkles before turning back to his extreme-people watching with a pout on his face.

Fucking stuff always made him so depressive. No wonder Spencer kept it locked away from him.

Huffing into the mild night air, Tala drew his legs up closer to his chest before looping his arms around them and resting his chin on top. His ice blue eyes stared out blankly into space while the wind tugged at his free-for-once hair and, if he had a mirror, he'd bet that his reflection would have looked drained and sick as shit as well.

His clothes were rumpled and obviously made for sleeping in rather than wandering aimlessly around in and if he were in his right mind, he wouldn't have been caught dead in them in a semi-public place.

But, as the vodka (which he'd decided to use as a replacement when he found his usual beers weren't working) and solidarity attested to, he obviously wasn't in his right mind.

And it was all one Bryan Kuznetsov's fault.

Who fucking breaks up with someone at a fucking _reunion_ of all places anyway? And a publicly covered one at that? Did Bryan not care about him at all? Was their whole relationship just some fucking convenience to him or something? "_This time I'm serious, Tala. I don't think we should be together anymore_." What a fucking joke.

Tala sighed and buried his face in his knees; determined to resist tears in any way necessary.  
What the fuck had he done wrong anyway? Sure, they'd fought and shit but they'd always fought and shit; it just wasn't them if they didn't!

Tala looked up from his knees miserably. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Bryan hadn't _wanted_ it to be like their friendship. Maybe he'd expected Tala to change once they started getting serious; become all sweet and lovey and shit.

As he'd said before; what a fucking joke.

Tala Ivanov did not do fucking _lovey_. Fuck, he barely did nice; let alone anything else. The Abbey made sure of that.

And Bryan fucking knew that! Bryan had been right fucking there when any niceness or sweetness had been beaten or whipped or fucking _operated_ out of him; how could he expect anything even remotely like that from him?

Tala moaned lowly; he wondered if Bryan had told anyone yet. Personally, he doubted it; Bryan had never really been the news-breaking type, really. He usually left that to Tala, Spencer or Kai while he just sat there and glared.

Tala smirked; Bryan sure glared a lot.

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Tala wiped his eyes (which were just fucking watering because of the wind, goddammit) and sighed. So, what was he going to do now? Bryan, as totally well, _gay_, as it sounded, had been his first love and even though they'd had their little break ups before, something about this one just felt more… final. Like they really weren't going to be getting together and then, eventually, falling apart again like they'd been doing for the last three years.

Tala blinked a little and felt his lips turn up a bit; something about that realization almost felt a little, uh, he didn't know, freeing, perhaps? Sure, he still felt like shit; he did every time Bryan broke up with him and sub-sequentially crushed his heart, but at least this time said blader had made it crystal clear that he didn't want the redhead anymore. This time there would be no guessing, no vagueness, no iffy-ness. They were done. They no longer belonged together. They were free from each other. It was an empty, solemn feeling and Tala wasn't sure what to do with it.

"Well, getting off the roof and into bed might be a start, genius," Tala murmured to himself before picking his tired body up off the cold cement of the roof and walking to the exit/entrance, careful to avoid the shattered vodka bottle as he went.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Tala found himself standing in front of the creamy white door leading to his hotel room in dread-filled silence; realization beating him in the face harder and harder the longer he stood there.

They hadn't told anyone they'd broken up yet. Bryan was a fucking silent fucker. The BBA roomed bladers in pairs of two. There were six bladers, him included, on his team. Ray and Kai were together and thus had a room together, Spencer was the only one who could soothe Ian's nightmares so they always shared; ergo, he'd be stuck with Bryan.

Tala closed his eyes; perhaps he should have taken a dive off the roof after all.

Screw what he'd said about being free and all that shit. The two hour train ride to Tokyo had been hell enough sitting beside Bryan without breaking down and throwing a fit; now he was expected to share a room with him for who-knew-how-long?

Like. _Hell_.

Stealing himself and coaxing his reluctant fingers into moving with the thought that he'd only be in the same place as Bryan for under fifteen minutes, Tala swiped the keycard through the little slot and shoved the door open.

Moving quietly and with the utmost of efficiency he went to his suitcase and grabbed a pair of black jeans that hugged his ass in ways that were guaranteed to turn straight men gay and an ice blue tank-top with a black wolf graphic on the front that fit him similarly before gliding to the bathroom, changing and throwing his hair back in a ponytail.

That done, he threw on a pair of socks, his combat boots and his black leather jacket before slipping his wallet, (fake) ID and cell-phone into his pockets; all the while making sure to avoid looking over to where he was completely sure Bryan was sleeping peacefully without him.

After catching his reflection in the mirror for just long enough to make sure he looked like his usual hot self again, Tala marched from the bathroom with deadly grace and the intent of finding a different, though preferably close to the hotel, place to crash for the night before doubling back at around six in the morning to catch up with his team for breakfast.

He would then break the news that he and Bryan were no longer together before phoning up Dickinson and kindly asking that the man not place him in the same room as Bryan, even if he had to take funds from Tala's bank account to do so, thank you very much.

After that, they would probably go train and life would carry on as normal; with the entire team traveling to Greece for the start of the Championships the next day.

When he got to the door he paused though and made the mistake of looking back; the sight he saw made him ache to his very core and a thing very close to murderous rage race through his veins.

There lay Bryan, sprawled out on his bed just like Tala had expected with the drapes thrown open and the moonlight painting his naturally pale body silver. The sheets laid low on his skin, just barely covering his obviously naked hips and his hair was ruffled in in a very just-had-sex way.

Which, of course, was explained by the beautiful little tramp currently sleeping in his arms.

It was a guy, of course; Bryan made no secret of liking them over girls. Standing he was probably shorter than Tala by about half a foot and slim with short, messy dark brown hair. His lightly tanned skin was perfect with no scars or blemishes at all that Tala could see in the semi-darkness and he had a little lightning bolt tattoo on his collar bone.

Clothes were tossed carelessly around the both of them, a pair of dark jeans even having landed on the bed across from where Bryan and his tart slept; the one Tala would have been sleeping on if he'd not left the hotel as soon as his suitcase had made it inside the room.

Numbly, Tala opened the door and slipped outside, his legs shaking just a little as he sat himself down against the hallway wall. A cruel little laugh bubbled up in his throat as he let his head rest again the wall he was seated against.

One day. No, not even one day and the fucker had already moved on. Tala snorted and shook his head bitterly; how fucking typical. So typical in fact that he might as well just go sign up for one of those reality shows right then and there and save the networks the trouble of hounding him into it.

Smirking bitterly to himself, Tala whipped out his phone, flicked it on and opened up the text feature. Going to Bryan's number (which he had on speed-dial by the way, fuck; how disgusting was that? _Delete_) He quickly typed up a note of congratulations for the new couple to find in the morning.

_Hey Bry, happy to see your one night of celibacy didn't impair your ability to get it up; if you even kept it in your pants that one night. Perhaps though next time you could at least wait until we're not sharing a room anymore?_

_Thanx and good luck with the new boy toy,  
XOXO Tala_

Grinning to himself, Tala hit the send button and watched as his phone sent off the message with a happy little 'beep'. Slipping his phone back into his pocket Tala laughed to himself again; yeah, he knew the message was a little catty but fuck it. What decent person brings their one-night-stand (because he was a one-night-stand; if he was anything else Tala might just have to look into some new places to hide some bodies) to the hotel room they were sharing with their very, very recent ex-boyfriend?

Blowing out a puff of air Tala checked the time; it was 1:39 am and counting and, as far as he could see, Tala had a few choices he needed to decide between.

Choice A: Follow the original plan and find somewhere to crash, pretend you never saw what you did and let life move on.

Um, no. Plus he'd kind of already fucked that up with the text and shit.

Choice B: Call Kai and bitch, preferably while drunk out of your mind.

Tala considered it; sure, the second part of that plan meant getting up and finding some place to get drunk at where he could still bitch properly without it getting into the papers, and he'd probably be disturbing said ice prince's cuddle/sex time with the kitten, but he thought it just might be worth it; if a little pathetic.

Moving on he went to Choice C: Go out, find some hot little club and deal with the rest of this in the morning.

Tala stopped, glanced down at his clothes (which he looked pretty hot in) and tried to remember what the drinking age in Japan was. He was pretty sure twenty would cut it (he hoped at least, seeing as that's what his fake ID said) and if not he'd just find someone who was legitimately whatever the age was and head in with them.

Nodding slowly to himself Tala pulled himself up from the immaculate hallway floor and headed for the elevator; the numbness that had invaded his body evaporating with every step he took until he actually started feeling human again.

* * *

It was four in the morning and Tala was on his third club of the night when he felt a tall, hard body press up against his back. He was in some tiny little place in a district of Tokyo he couldn't properly pronounce with his current blood-alcohol ratio the way it was, where the lights seemed to be placed with the purpose to disorient and seemingly everything was accepted if the actions of the locals were anything to go by.

Plus, he hadn't been recognized once that he'd noticed. Thus far it was a very win-win situation.

"So, even the evil-doers of beyblade sneak off to go party every now and then, hm?" a very rich, very _American_ voice whispered heatedly in his ear.

Tala spun around leisurely; confidant in the facts that he A) knew who it was and B) knew if push came to shove he could knock said person off their feet, Biovolt training thank you very much.

And, low and behold, his guess was right. Standing before him (okay, so he was grinding up against him and Tala had his arms wrapped around his neck, but so what?) was the six-foot-four form of one Rick Anderson.

His hair was pulled back and spiky as ever, but the flashing colours of the lights never let it stay its original silvery-white for longer than a second. For once he wasn't dressed as a futuristic basketball player but rather he was wearing a pair of black cargos that hugged tight in all the right places, if you got his meaning, and a black tank that was obviously designed to blatantly show the most dark chocolate skin it could without being classified as male-hooker-wear.

"Mmm, yes; we have to do something when we're not planning world domination, you know," Tala said in slightly Russian-accented English as he brought one leg up to brush against Rick's toned butt. The older blader grinned and let a hand slip down lower to rest on Tala's hip while the other stayed where it was on the small of his back.

"I guess; but don't you guys usually hang in a pack of some sort?" Rick asked as he spun Tala around, locking the redhead in his muscled arms against his hard chest. "Where's your boyfriend at, huh, little wolf?" he whispered in his ear.

Tala sucked in a breath as heat spread out through his person. There was alcohol on Rick's breath but he obviously wasn't one of those sloppy drunks if the way he was dancing was anything to go by and really, if he kept moving and talking like that, with that irresistible vaguely New York accent highlighting every one or two of his words, then Tala was going to decide he didn't care if Rick wasn't in his right mind and have his wicked way with him regardless.

As of that second though, he decided that he wanted to hear more of the other blader's voice.

"Out chasing something foreign, I do believe," he answered in about as careless a tone as he could manage.

Rick hummed and Tala felt the vibrations all the way along his spine.

"Chinese?" Rick asked lowly and Tala let out a sharp laugh. Rick must have gotten that from those rumours the press had spread around that after Ray had joined the Blitzkrieg Boys he and Bryan started a secret relationship behind his and Kai's backs. Oh, what a laugh they'd had over that one.

"As if," Tala told him, grinning, "He wouldn't be breathing if that were the case."

Rick grinned back. "I always thought that was a stupid one." He spun Tala again, though this time the redhead ended up facing the American with Tala's pale arms finding themselves clinging to Rick's sturdy shoulders.

"So then, what exactly is he chasing and why'd it send you to a seedy little place like this?" The older blader asked, his voice low and deep and sexy as hell.

Tala eyed Rick a little warily; years of watching his back around Biovolt had made him suspicious of people who wanted to know things, but he figured he was pretty safe with Rick. Besides, all things considered his story was pretty typical and Rick was a close friend of Kai's; meaning that he definitely wasn't the type of person to sell things to the media.

Plus, he was hotter than Hell and Tala was a vindictive little bastard when the fancy struck him.

"Because he decided he wanted to sample the new Greek meat the day after he figured he was sick of me." Tala gave Rick a classic 'what are you going to do?' shrug.

Rick snorted and pulled Tala even closer; "Then how about we go have some fun of our own?" he asked, his breath hot and thrilling against the sensitive skin of Tala's neck.

Tala smiled in a way that just showed his decidedly longer-than-normal canines and twined their fingers together. "Lead the way."

* * *

**Here be the next chapter! Hope you don't all hate me for breaking up Bryan and Tala but as you might have figured out, I'm a lover of the rare paring and I love a challenge so when a friend of mine suggested it well, I just couldn't kick the idea out of my brain. **

**And also, no worries about Bryan and the tart, as Tala so affectionately referred to him, Bryan will eventually pick his brain out of the gutter and move on and the OC will be forever alone, so no one hate on me for that.**

**As for Judy's characterization, well, I'd like to say I don't hate her but truth be told I really, really do. I can't stand how distant she is from Max and how callous she treats him; it all annoys me very much and I think, given a few more years, she would only get worse.**

**Anyway, as always, please tell me what you think!**

**By the way, anyone else notice how freaking long this thing is? 5400 words people! If that doesn't show I'm sorry about the waits between updates than I don't know what will!**

**Also, everyone thank my beta, the lovely beta-reader ****KedakaiOkami ****for fixing this up for me! Everybody give her a big hand of applause!**

**Sincerely,  
BlackRoseGirl666**


	10. Boom Boom

Rick sighed under his breath as he tried his best to discreetly stare at the frightening-looking captain of the Blitzkrieg Boys. Said captain was once again dressed in his blading clothes with his hair pulled back and his eyes set to kill.

_Safe to say,_ Rick thought, a little amused, _he looks a hell of a lot different than he did three nights ago in Tokyo._

Rick smirked a little at that; damn, they sure wouldn't be calling the Russian 'cold' if they knew what he did. Rick didn't know if it had been the liquor or just something in the air that night, but whatever it had been; it had completely blown his perceptions of one Tala Ivanov clean out of the water for him.

And he had had perceptions too. Like everyone else; he'd already figured that Tala was a cold person, guarded and beaten down by life, like a scary percentage of the rest of them were. Unlike them though, it had always been one of Rick's goals to figure out if that was just a mask or not.

That night, a few days ago, had been the perfect opportunity. Rick had been out and about on a whim, figuring that he might as well take a look at the Tokyo club scene and see if it compared to his beloved New York one, when he'd stumbled upon that little hole-in-the-wall of strange to see the, arguably, most scary blader in the world dancing amongst the locals like he'd been born just to do that.

A shot of liquid fire had raced through his veins as he'd watched Tala move, the white skin of the younger blader's neck and face shifting through all the different colours of the rainbow as the lights changed. His bright hair had started slipping from his prim little ponytail earlier on, leaving the silky locks of blood red to soften the sharp points of his face while his eyes glittered like light on the water's surface.

He'd been beautiful and that, coupled with the inhibition-killing alcohol Rick had been sampling earlier that night and his already slight infatuation with the redhead, had managed to overcome his standoffish nature and bring him to insert himself into the redhead's life.

That, and for the first time Rick had ever seen the redhead, he hadn't been surrounded by his other very scary teammates. Not that Rick was scared of them or anything; he was friends with Kai for hell's sake. Still though, he'd been warned by his red-eyed friend about his 'brothers'' fighting abilities and Rick hadn't wanted to try and talk to Tala only to wind up with a black eye, if you got his meaning.

But, seeing as there had been no scary team members in sight, Rick had taken a chance and well, just look at how well that had turned out.

They'd wound up spending the entire morning after together, not something either of them were very used to apparently and had made plans to go out again before leaving Tokyo, which they'd actually followed up on. And, weirdest of all, Rick had actually _enjoyed_himself!

One wouldn't think it looking at him, but Tala had a very unique personality once he wasn't under scrutiny. He was sharp and witty and wasn't shy about anything. He was capable on his own but logical enough to know he couldn't take on the world by himself and he was very open in a way not many expected.

That and he was gorgeous (which the redhead obviously knew) and, according to Tala, he was single.

All of that easily made up for the way Tala had winced at Rick's grey sweats when Rick had made his intention to wear them in public known.

Rick had decided early on that morning that he'd wanted to know more about the redhead and, apparently, Tala had returned the sentiments as by the end of their 'date' the redhead had pulled out one of those shiny new touch phones and asked Rick to exchange numbers.

Rick, who only remembered his number because it was made up mostly of sevens and ended in his New York street address, had agreed willingly.

Hearing a small beep come from the pocket of the ridiculous white pants Judy insisted he wear in order to look less intimidating, Rick absently plucked his aforementioned little LG Slide out of his pocket; making sure to keep his hands low so the roaming cameras wouldn't be able to catch him not being riveted to the action in the dish.

It was just the newbies after all, he told his conscience (also known as 'Inner Judy'). He'd pay attention when one of the others got to battling or Emily stated someone might be competition.

That in mind, he slid the little piece of technology open and pressed the 'read message' button, grinning to himself when the typically sarcastic words of one Tala Ivanov filled the screen.

_What do you think of the fresh meat? Not exactly riveting, hm? ;) _

Rick glanced at the pair of battling teens; it was a pair of girls, one in a short ruffled skirt and a corset and the other in a pair of tiny short and a tube top. They were both breathing hard and both had their bit-beasts out; Corset's being a pink dragon of some sort while Shorts' was some kind of indigo wolf that looked like a more pansy version of Wolborg.

He checked the large digital clock that hung opposite where the team and audience seating was; they'd only been fighting for all of three minutes and they already looked exhausted. Rick's snort fell somewhere between disgust and amusement; so this was the next generation? Oh boy.

_Can't say I disagree. Luckily I've got something much better to hold my attention._

Rick debated putting a smiley face at the end but eventually decided against it. Just because Tala had him using his phone more in the last three days than he had in his last three months of owning the thing, didn't mean he would stoop to the redhead's level.

Smirking just a little; he hit send and relaxed back into his padded seat, eyes watching Tala's mask-like face and mind amazingly thankful for the air-conditioning that kept the hot Athens heat from frying them all.

It was their second day in Greece after arriving at twelve in the morning two nights ago and the first day of the Championships. Everyone was still tired from all the traveling and was trying to get into their right mind-set, some with more success than others.

Like, for instance, the Blitzkrieg Boys; who looked a cool as ever, compared to Tyson of the New Blades (the new name his team had come up with). He had fallen asleep two minutes after arriving at his team's seating and had to be elbowed by his boyfriend in order to go participate in his match.

Yeah, there had been a fair bit of snickering during that.

A little beep once again warned Rick of a message which he hastily read and answered, smiling at the words.

_;) You know it. On another note: can't take team's sympathy much longer. Care 2 go 2 lunch after we r done with show-time?_

Rick snickered; Tala had been bitching about the sympathetic glances his teammates (outside of the obvious) had been giving him since he'd announced his break up with Bryan the day he'd left Rick's hotel room. Rick didn't particularly mind though, it just meant more time for him and Tala to hang out together.

_Sure thing. Meet u where? _he sent back.

_I'll find you. Just hang around the lounge for a bit._

Rick nodded to himself and slipped his phone back into his pants pocket after sending back a _got it, see you soon_. The lounge was a room where all the different bladers from all the different teams could hang-out together before matches; every big, BBA owned stadium had one so it had become a bit of a competition between designers to see who could outdo the last.

Rick usually avoided them at all costs. Call him paranoid, but those things were backgrounds for drama just _waiting_to happen.

Sighing, Rick smiled across the room in the redhead's direction. Tala had gone back to glaring icily to all around, but Rick had grown up reading people and he could see the quirk of the redhead's lips even if no one else could.

Feeling content with life at that point in time, Rick relaxed back into his seat and watched boredly as the youngsters finally wrapped up their match after a bit of emotional sniveling, leaving Corset victorious and Shorts in tears.

Rick rolled his eyes and turned to Eddy, who'd been sitting beside him watching the match with boredom practically rolling off him in waves, when something happened.

It was just as Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum were stepping down from the battle platform, one full-out sobbing and the other grinning. DJ Jazzman had just been opening his mouth to congratulate everyone and declare the first day of the World Championships over when it had happened.

_It_was a large boom that had just enough oomph behind it to make the suspended lights shake ominously, though not enough to throw them from their seats. That would be what started it, Rick would later remember.

And the weird thing was that no one screamed. They just sat there, looking around in confusion.

_And why shouldn't they?_ Rick thought; his mind a little confused as he looked around at his fellow bladers, who also looked a good bit confused. _This is beyblade after all. It's just not a proper match without something blowing up._

It was only after the second boom, this one closer, apparently, as the scent of smoke had begun to fill the room, that people began to figure out that what was happening had nothing to do with the sport and that they should be trying to get out.

Standing, Rick scanned the room. Jazzman was talking quickly into his mike, directing people to use the emergency exits while security members dressed in layers of Kevlar with the BBA logo across their chests in bright yellow started hurriedly ushering people out.

Another explosion sounded; this time with screams chasing after it as people started to figure out that _holy shit, this is real_and thus started panicking. The emergency doors were then thrown wide open with a bang that no one could hear over the rising noise and people started rushing out. Rick himself had begun gathering his team and ushering them of their seating area along with Judy Tate.

And he decided it was the most surreal thing he'd ever experienced.

The only thing that topped it was when the third (fourth? He couldn't remember) bomb (because that's what those explosions had to be – bombs ) went off from the bladers' entrance to the stadium, engulfing the entire entrance hall, he imagined, in fire and causing a shock so bad that it sent everyone on the floor of the stadium flying.

He didn't remember much after that, just darkness and a vague prayer that he would be able to reset that date with Tala for another day in the future.

* * *

Biovolt was who it was eventually blamed on. Apparently they found remnants of the bombs and did something technical to them and figured it out. There was a big police hunt out for anyone even suspected of having contact with the organization. Emily had decided within the first fifteen minutes of the news report that she didn't give a fuck.

With blank eyes she stared down at Styrofoam coffee cup she had cradled in her hands; she didn't know why she had it. Probably because she needed an excuse to move and a coffee run was the most expectable one she could come up with at that second.

Regardless, she brought the edge of the cup to her lips and took a sip; the bitter stuff burnt her tongue, not that she cared. A coffee burn was the least of any of her concerns at that point in time.

It had been two days and they were still looking for bod – for _people_, she reminded herself tersely. _They're not bodies until they're dead. _

_Not bodies until they're dead._

_Not bodies until they're dead._

_A coma did not count as dead!_

_She is not de –_

Emily set the cup down on the little table to the side of the couch she was seated on with jerky movements, scared she'd drop it otherwise. Tears plugged up the space behind her eyes and the few that managed to escape past her control wound up beading against the rim of her new glasses; the old ones having been lost to the attack.

Running her restricted fingers through her orangey hair from greasy root to singed tip, she propped her elbows up on her jean-clad knees and looked at her hands. Staring, she fought down the mad desire to rip away the bandages that covered her skin from the base of her fingers to her wrists and count the burn marks hidden beneath them; the only real wounds she had to prove that she had been in that building, too.

Not like Michael, whose leg they were still trying to rebuild after it was crushed by a piece of falling ceiling; not like Tyson, whose arm was doomed to be in a cast for the next few months after he fell on it wrong and snapped it so badly that a piece of bone had been sticking out of his skin when they found him; not like Ray, whose arms were all burned and bloodied from trying to help the people closest to the fire out, and definitely not like Mariah, who still hadn't woken up after –

Emily shook her head, looked up at the conveniently placed clock and blinked for a moment too long.

God she hated waiting.

Blowing out a stale breath into the staler air, she tried to focus again.

There were others, too, who were hurt; she reminded herself. Rick with his concussion, Kai with his broken ribs and almost punctured lung, Tala with his twisted knee; Julia who had gotten sliced by a piece of falling glass…

The list went on and on and on. Over four hundred people had been injured in what was being called 'Biovolt's Last Stand', with the number of dead still climbing. Most of those were civilians though; so far not one blader had died and only a handful had been injured badly.

Emily felt even uglier than normal for being happy about that.

Who could blame her though? These people, these bladers, they were the people she'd known forever! It was okay to be happy they were safe, wasn't it? It wasn't a _bad_thing so much as it was a human thing. It was normal. Expected. Typical.

_Right?_

God she hoped so.

Emily snorted softly; it would probably be questions like that that would be answered when they were all dragged to the psychologist's office in a week's time. It was one of the restrictions the BBA had put out when the majority of bladers had made it clear they still wanted a World Championships for the year.

Tyson had been the one to propose it of course. He'd let out a stirring speech on live camera about how they couldn't let this beat them, about how they couldn't let Biovolt taint their memories and their lives and their futures. He'd had the entire media in tears practically; especially when he'd suggested making the new Opening Ceremonies a memorial service for those who had died in the attack in a quiet voice.

Of course though, that would all be in the far off future.

_You know,_ she thought semi-hysterically, biting down on a laugh that might just get her locked away in the psych ward if anyone heard it, _When the World Championship teams aren't hidden away in a Greek hospital, under police fucking security waiting to see who will live and who will fucking die!_

She choked on the laugh anyway; her nails biting hard into the bandages that covered her palms and making them sting.

Then, then they could go hold another Championship; she thought, her head falling back against the painfully white wall because she was too tall for the chair. One where everyone would gather and blade and smile and quietly wonder if that building was going to come down on them too.

Emily sucked a breath of chemical-laced air into her lungs, holding it and fighting back more tears all at the same time; her purple-grey eyes stared ahead of her, watering and blank at the white hospital door in front of her.

Just inside was Mariah, she knew. Lying on one of those uncomfortable, all-white beds with her bright pink hair splayed out about her head and dark smudges under her beautiful, closed eyes. She'd be alone Emily betted. After all, who would visit her? Not her teammates, who were all gathered around Tyson. The White Tigers all hated Mariah now and, as far as Emily knew, the girl didn't have any other friends.

So, knowing that, Emily had taken it upon herself to come and visit the other girl. Emily was fine after all, with no injuries other than those little, non-scarring burns and everyone else she knew had had plenty of visitors already.

Mariah, as far as she knew, had been all alone ever since they'd pulled her from the rubble and, even if she was unconscious and had messed up in the past, Emily didn't think she deserved to be so alone.

That, and Emily loved her. Loved her even though their only real conversations had been either arguments or playful chatter over math work; even though Mariah could very well hate her once she found out that she was the center of Emily's dream world.

With sad eyes; Emily fingered a petal of one of the gardenias she'd brought with her. They were pretty flowers naturally, but she'd thought that their white petals would be horrid against the white-everything-else that made up a hospital, so she'd had the florist make her up a bouquet of ones that had been dyed bright colours.

The one she was currently playing with was bright pink, the same shade as Mariah's hair.

Bitterly Emily twisted the petal from all the others that made up the flowers head, shifting it between her fingers before letting it fall to the linoleum. Now if she could only convince herself to enter…

Emily almost laughed again. Emily loved Mariah but she couldn't stand to make herself get up from her chair outside the door and visit her. How pathetic.

_Pathetic, pathetic Emily; the girl who's never going to have a family..._

Emily bit her lip hard and placed her hands over her ears, as if that would somehow help drown out the hurtful schoolyard chant she'd faced from the first time a perspective foster family had picked another child over her six-year-old self to that fateful day four years later when Judy Tate had shown up and asked if she'd like a spot at the PPB School of Beyblade and Engineering.

Apparently her marks had been so high that she had been impossible to miss, or at least that's what Judy had told her, when her younger self had asked why Judy wanted her, little pathetic Emily, instead of one of the other, prettier girls at her school.

Releasing her abused lip Emily let her hands fall to her sides, though this time they curled into fists. No, oh hell no. This was not going to happen to her. She would not fall to those stupid voices once again.

Glaring with all the determination she could muster, Emily snatched up the flowers and gripped the door handle. Saying a little prayer to any deity willing to listen, she shoved open the door.

What she saw nearly made her regret her decision.

Emily had been right when she'd thought Mariah would be alone and had similarly been right when she'd assumed that the girl would be unconscious.

What she hadn't guessed was the sheer number of wires and tubes that had been inserted into the other blader; or just how bare and small she'd look against those plain white sheets.

Pushing down a strangled sound that tried to slip past her teeth, Emily silently slipped into the uncomfortable plastic chair that sat beside Mariah's bed, the flowers left momentarily forgotten as Emily gently scooped up the other girl's wire-ridden and bruised hand in hers.

Mariah was unresponsive but Emily found herself uncaring; her hand fit inside Emily's neatly and right then, there was very little that would have convinced her to move.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, unsure what she was apologizing for. Was it for the thousands of times she'd watched the pinkette from across the room and then turned away quickly before she was caught? Was it because she wanted to apologize for even holding the feelings she did? Or was it merely for the fact that there was a possibility that Mariah may just not wake up and ever find out that Emily loved her?

Emily didn't know, but that didn't stop her from holding onto Mariah's hand, murmuring apologies in time with her falling tears long into the night.

* * *

**Well, um. You want to know how this came about? See, lately I've been feeling that this story has become kind of… flat. Like the plot (which was never really plotted out, as is such with many of my older stories) kind of drifted into the back and the entire thing was very internalized. Now, I was bitching about this to my friend and you know what she told me? "If you're stuck, kill someone. That'll get it moving." Now, she is not a writer, so she doesn't really get how attached you get to a character, but I still thought her advice was pretty sound so, in place of killing someone, I blew up a building *grins* hopefully that will give me the push I need to wrap this thing up in three or so more chapters.**

**Anyway, please tell me what you think! Reviews are what make me write after all and I haven't gotten a new one in a while *is sad.***

**Sincerely,**  
**BlackRoseGirl666**

**Also! Everyone give a hand to my great beta: KedakaiOkami! The only reason my stuff is now as legible as it is!**


	11. Echos

**(A few days after the explosion, 1:56am)**

"I should have figured it out." Kai's voice was only a whisper in the silence, but even to Ray's sleep-muddled ears it roared with self-resentment.

Ray rolled over to face the other blader, careful of the tubes and such Kai was hooked up to while he healed. The silverette was staring up into the dark, empty air of the hospital room with tired eyes, leaving Ray happy that he'd decided to sneak into the other's room when he'd had the chance.

"How?" Ray asked a little whimsically, very much used to _this_ kind of discussion. It was always best to have Kai explain his own thinking when he started blaming himself for something beyond his control; it made it easier for Ray to pick his reasoning apart afterwards.

"When Ian was attacked in Russia," Kai uttered quietly, "I should have figured out that something was about to happen then."

"There was no evidence of it being them," Ray murmured dismissively, gently running a couple of scratched fingers through Kai's stormy hair. "Russia's dangerous at night even without Biovolt; we had no reason to believe it wasn't just a pack of thugs."

Ian was the least trained of the Blitzkrieg Boys after all. It wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility that he actually _had_ been attacked by group of thugs that night in St. Petersburg. He'd gotten off with a broken arm and picked up a bad attitude when he'd realized that his injury would keep him from actively battling in the World Championships but nothing major. Or at least, nothing _Biovolt_ major.

It had been a dark night, snowy and cold. Ian, the little bugger, had snuck out of their apartment to go pick up some pranking stuff and had been waylaid on his way back. With the help of his blade he'd gotten loose and proceeded to rush back to their place double time, where Spencer had treated him and Kai had started making plans to leave the city.

Because Ian hadn't recognized any of the men or seen anything Biovolt-esque on their persons they'd brushed it off, ignoring the fact that fear was the main driving point behind their sudden leave. Ray had figured that, given time, Kai would find some way to make the incident his fault, as he was known to. What Ray hadn't expected was for it to be used as evidence as to why Kai was to blame for not stopping a terrorist attack.

Said blader gave a small sound of acknowledgement to his boyfriend's reassurance but Ray knew better than to believe this would be the end of it. Still though, he didn't push. Pushing Kai was like kicking a snake: generally stupid and to be done only in the rarest of cases.

This, Ray thought, perhaps with a little sadness, was not a rare case.

After all, in their life, something like this was pitifully common – an annual occurrence, even. Ever since he, Kai, Tyson, Kenny and Max had first met and formed the Blade-Breakers they'd somehow managed to get caught up in some plot or another, almost to the point that it seemed as if sports and evil went hand and hand.

The only difference from all those other memorable occasions was that this time they hadn't figured out that there was anything in need of their attention until it was too late.

Sighing, the ravenette curled in closer to his boyfriend, content to feel Kai's strong body pressed as close to his as the silverette's injuries would allow. Though he was loathed to admit it (a possible side effect of living with the Blitzkrieg Boys, Ray mused with a rueful smile), he had been terrified once the bombs had started going off. He'd been sure that they were all going to die or, oddly worse, that he'd wake up to find his friends and lover missing and that it was all on him to save the world.

To Ray (and many others, he was sure) the second scenario would always be impossibly worse.

What so many didn't seem to understand was that pulling off what their generation of bladers had, everything from foiling evil corporations to watching teammates fall to insanity, completely destroyed your faith in 'outsiders.' The press, the police; hell, even medical professionals – Ray couldn't imagine going to any of them for help, if only because they had never really helped before. This meant, in the reality of his hypothetic fears, he would be alone.

Saving the world was hard, but he'd done it so often with the others it was almost an expectation of life.

To do it on his own though, with the others depending on him so totally… It was a terrifying amount of pressure that, in those few minutes before the emergency door had flung open, had seemed horrifyingly real; even more so than his own probable death.

Memories of his past, which had rushed through his head at lightning speed, had done nothing to sooth his greatest fear either, the Neko thought, disenchanted. If the bombers hadn't already been caught, if they hadn't just been some crappy copycats… he fully expected that the media, and maybe even the cops, would have expected them, the bladers, to catch the bad guys and bring them to justice. It wasn't even their fault for thinking like that either, Ray could admit. It had just happened so many times in the past that people had become accustomed to it.

It didn't matter that many of them were injured, their loved ones unconscious or currently under the knife; they would have been expected to use that anxiety and emotion to the catch the bad guy, just like what had happened when Garland had put Tala in a coma and still the Battle Five tournament had gone on, with no punishment for anyone involved. It was ridiculous and Ray was so, so tired of it.

"We can't save the world all the time," Ray murmured, voice muffled by cheap hospital fabric and exhaustion.

Kai turned his head towards him, eyes inquisitive. "Pardon?"

"We can't save the world all the time, Kai," Ray repeated again, his eyes stinging, "We've done it so many times already; we can't keep it up. No one can. Please don't expect yourself to." He could feel tears slipping past his lashes and curving along his cheeks, down his jaw and onto his neck. Kai's arms curled around him soothingly, the part-Russian careful of the wires if only so they didn't have half the hospital come stumbling in on them thinking Kai was dead due to something getting lose.

"We're still young, Kai. Just kids according to most people," Ray said a while later, once he'd stopped crying long enough for his cheeks to be more sticky than wet. "I know you hate it when people consider you that but, in this regard at least, can you let yourself fall to those standards, just this once?"

Kai tightened his grip around Ray's lithe frame, tucking the dark-haired teen in the space under his chin and placing a soft kiss amongst Ray's dishevelled locks. "Anything for you."

Ray hummed contently at the promise, letting the earnest, bullshit-free words soothe one of the more jaded pieces of his heart. "When this is over, let's go home," he proposed sleepily. Home to Ray had become somewhat abstract in physical form, but he got a feeling Kai would understand that what he meant with the word. Somewhere safe, warm, and where the paparazzi wouldn't find them.

Kai nodded and pressed another kiss to Ray's forehead, his arms holding possessively to the form of the person he was most scared of losing. Home for Kai was wherever Ray was, but his year-younger lover was right when he thought that Kai would have an idea of where Ray would like to go.

It was one of the few Hiwatari properties Ray hadn't gotten a chance to see during their break from blading; a little island paradise Kai's parents had taken him to all of once before their deaths. He'd sent ahead servants to get the place ready in time for the end of the World Championships but one phone call would have the entire elite Hiwatari staff going double time in order to have it ready at his convenience.

Also having been sent ahead of time to the island was a soft red velvet ring box. Inside that box were a piece of jewellery and a question that had left Kai feeling sicker than any battle he'd ever had.

Taking one of Ray's hands in his Kai gently pressed a kiss to the other teen's knuckles. "I love you, you know."

Ray smiled sleepily (_beautifully_) up at him, "And I, you."

And that was all it took to stop the tremors in Kai's stomach, allowing the both of them to settle in for a night's sleep before waking to face the media shit-storm they both sensed brewing.

"I think I want to write a book."

Tyson, who had just finished arguing with Hiro over the phone about how it wasn't necessary to drag both their father _and_ grandfather to Greece over a broken arm, looked away from the space of air he'd been staring blankly at to give his boyfriend a somewhat confused look.

"Really?" he asked, coming over to sit beside his bubbly blonde, which really just wound up as code for becoming as physically entwined with the other teen as possible without jarring his aforementioned broken arm. _Damn,_ Tyson thought, did he ever feel for Ian right then.

Max nodded softly, accepting Tyson's need to cling better than a normal person might, due to his own cuddling habits. "What would it be about?" the injured Bey-Champion quizzed once he was comfortable.

Max hummed and picked absently at a loose string at the hem of Tyson's shirt. "I was thinking of making it about us; well, not just us, as it would be kind of like a memoir type thing, so really everyone would be talked about once, but mostly it would just focus on the original Blade-Breakers and our adventures." His eyes flicked up to Tyson's. "What do you think?"

Tyson nibbled on his lips a bit, thinking instead of just talking for once before finally deciding on a string of words he liked.

"It sounds cool, Maxie; I totally wouldn't mind it. Some of the others though…" the bluenette trailed off lamely, depending on his blonde's mind powers to be able to pick up where he'd left off. While yeah, he and probably a majority of the others would be on-board, a lot of them still wouldn't be; Kai, the Blitzkrieg Boys, and the White Tigers were just a few he could see putting their foot down, if only because of their own paranoia.

There was also the question of who'd edit it, how to publish it, what content they could include that wouldn't get them jailed… the list went on. Sitting on the soft couch in their hotel room, still injured and shocked from recent events, it seemed altogether like too much work.

Max nodded in recognition, having easily read the words painted across his boyfriend's face before Tyson had slipped too far into his own mind – but not in agreement. He knew it would be difficult – the controversy and complications surrounding beyblade in general would come together to make some _fantastically_ strong red tape, he was sure – but… but something in Max _ached_ for it to be done. Even if it was never published; even if it only included stories from Tyson and himself; even if all it ever came to be was a notebook of handwritten chicken scratch; it needed to be done. Their stories… they needed to be told, if only to get them out of their own heads for a while.

And, something deep inside Max, had decided he wanted to be the one to tell them.

Vaguely Max wondered if this was what his mother had felt when she'd left to go play with her experiments back in America. If the itch he had to construct a reliable, solid story of their blading generation was the same one she had, the same one that had led her to leave everything else behind.

He also wondered if, against his meaning to, he'd turn out just like her…

Max couldn't help but grin at the thought; his eyes warm as he watched Tyson stare into space.

Nah, that wouldn't happen, and if it started too, well, he guessed that's where Tyson would come in to save his butt.

_After all, wasn't that what Tyson always did?_ Max thought, kissing his boyfriend with a giggle and successfully breaking the silence that had descended on their temporary living room.

Tyson grinned as he saw the pensive look melt away from his boyfriend's face. He didn't know what exactly had spawned this whole memoir thing of Maxie's, but at least whatever it was wasn't bogging him down.

"Hey, who said you could giggle like that without inviting me!" the bluenette challenged, sneaking a kiss while Max was distracted by his apparent mirth. The blonde paid him back by tickling his side, though not to the point that it would cause Tyson to hit his arm.

Neither of them wanted to admit that their recent antics had anything to do with the bombing they'd survived just a short few days ago; nor did they wish to acknowledge that either of them had yet to mention it, or how they turned the channel every time they caught sight of it on the news. Max kept it a secret that the book idea had come from the fear that they might die with no one ever really knowing what they'd done, and Tyson kept the real reason he'd yet to so much as glance at his cast a secret.

Both of them believed some secrets didn't need telling, after all.

Thus, when Max was forced to shake Tyson from a nightmare at some time close to five in the morning, neither of them actually said that that was what was happening. Instead, they both subconsciously decided that they just hadn't been tired and had decided to get up; regardless of the fact they'd barely gotten four hours of sleep.

_After all,_ Tyson thought as he stared at the TV screen in their hotel living room, Max making coffee in the little kitchenette. It wasn't like he was feeling guilty about not being able to stop those Biovolt wanabees; not at all! He didn't have survivor's guilt or any of those silly things Hiro had mentioned over the phone. He was Tyson Granger! He just needed a little time to adjust and he'd be fine.

That was the way it worked.

The others, they had limits to what they could put up with. To how much they could let their trust be trampled on before they snatched it back, to how much stress they could take before they left. They were the ones who felt awkward around new people, who needed someone to break the ice for them, even if it was by doing something stupid.

Tyson was the never beaten, never nervous, never pessimistic or sad one. And that's what he would continue to be, even if screams filled his dreams at night. Even if he could still feel the searing pain of his arms snapping under someone's foot. Even if, at night, Boris and Voltaire's voices taunted him with his failures.

Yes. He was Tyson Granger and it would not affect him. With that new mantra in mind, Tyson let himself relax back against the couch, the voices of early day-time Greek TV lulling him into an uneasy, sleepy haze.

Max, from his place in the kitchenette doorway, couldn't help but think that this was the behaviour Hiro had been speaking of when he'd told Max to call him if Tyson did anything strange.

What were you supposed to do when the guy you were 'with' (and how did that term even come about, Tala wondered, somewhat absently) was in the hospital, surrounded by his team who didn't particularly like you? Did you just shove your way past, righteous loyalty and love pushing you forward?

Tala wasn't ready for love. That was the black truth of it. He'd known Rick what, four days now? And two of those had been spent with the guy unconscious, in a hospital room full of people who kind of hated Tala.

He liked Rick; he really, really did. Rick, he could tell, was a good guy. He wasn't an asshole and he wasn't a playboy and yeah, he was little rough around the edges but Tala liked that. Tala liked pretty much everything about Rick.

But Tala was a wary person by nature and he still hurt from Bryan. He wasn't sure if he wanted to risk opening himself up for that again, no matter how good it had felt.

The way he lived wasn't something to go without consideration either.

Tala gave self-resenting chuckle. Was what they were doing even living? Going around from country to county, checking over their shoulders every other minute for fear of seeing one of those distinct black uniforms; training themselves to death _just in case_… Tala couldn't convince himself to bring Rick into a life of that. Not when the guy still had some form of a life left.

He didn't listen to the little whispers from his heart, insisting that if Ray and Kai could make it work, _so could he with Rick_.

Sighing, Tala dropped limply onto a convenient bench, his knees bent as to provide a nice perch for his elbows, fingers laced through his hair as he rested his forehead in his palms. A deep pulsing pain drifted from the back of his head, but Tala blamed it on tension more than the blast.

Reclining back from his hunched over position, Tala tipped his head so he could see the dark of the sky and little else. The pose was relaxing and left him feeling calmer than he had since the bombs had gone off.

Perhaps romance wasn't for him, Tala thought distantly. After all, he was so fucked up (hot as he was) and his life (as exhibited by the Biovolt bombings) was just as bad. If he couldn't make it work with Bryan, who would be able to understand him about as well as anyone, then how in hell could he expect anyone else to put up with him?

"Don't do that."

_Think of the devil and he shall appear?_ Tala mused, pulling himself up from his backwards slouch. Not ten feet away was teammate, once lover, and always pain in the ass, Bryan Kuznetsov.

_He looks good,_ Tala thought with a mind caught somewhere between annoyance and relief. The emotions of 'how dare that bastard almost get blown up and not have a scratch on him' fighting with the innate deep breath he felt pulse through him anytime he saw a member of his team walk away from something dangerous uninjured.

"Don't do what?" Tala called absently, "Last I checked being in a park at," he checked his watch, "6:41 wasn't illegal."

Bryan gave him a shit eating grin and sat beside him, leaving Tala somewhat impressed with Bryan's guts and his own ability to stop his flinch.

"Look," Bryan said after a moment, "I know I was a dick –

"You think?" Tala hissed unable to stop himself. Sure, the text he'd sent had done nicely to take the edge off his anger, and Rick had done a fabulous job of taking over his heart, but Tala was human and he still hurt dammit! He was supposed to be contemplating right now; how dare this fucker just waltz in and –

"Stop it," the ass replied, cutting off Tala's mental rant. "Look, I know you hate me right now but we just survived getting the hell bombed out of us and I saw you here alone and I know what you're about to do and I'm trying to do you a favour by stopping you!"

"Yeah? And what am I trying to do, asshole?" Tala was so done with all of this. The moment they were allowed to leave he was getting out of the Mediterranean and getting away from these people and –

"Run," Bryan hissed back. "You look like your trying to convince yourself to run and I'm trying to tell you it's a fucking stupid idea!"

Tala froze a moment, mouth open in rebuttal and Bryan took it as a chance to toss in the rest of his point.

"I know I was a dick," Bryan started, "and I could have handled this better, but we really weren't good together. We both know it. And after I got your text I figured I'd talk to you then but you didn't come back in the morning, and I thought you ran off. But then you came back and you were happy and …" here Bryan fumbled, having never really been good with words and even worse with emotions. "All I'm really trying to say I guess is don't run from whoever made you happy that night and, assuming it's the same guy, the one you were texting before the bombs went off."

With that Bryan got up and walked away, leaving Tala alone with his thoughts.

When he was gone Tala figured he probably should have called out to him, apologized himself maybe, but this wasn't a movie, so he didn't let it bother him too much.

Besides, he thought as he came to the doors of the hospital he knew Rick was at, the drama he was about to start would be Hollywood enough, romantic speech and everything if things played like he thought they would.

And, weirdly enough, Tala found himself somewhat cool with that. Rick would be worth the hassle.

Or at least he desperately hoped so. Tala wasn't sure if he could take another heartbreak.

Second to last chapter done. The next is one is just going to be a neat little where-are-they-now type thing to wrap up some lose ends and then this story is DONE! I hope you all enjoyed the ride!

Please Review and give thanks to mywonderfulbeta,KedakaiOkami!

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666


	12. Resonance

**(November 10, 2012 – Beycity, Japan) **

November 10th blossomed a dreary day, the sky full and dark in much the same way it had been those many, many months ago when Ray had taken blindly to the streets of Beycity, trying to run from his pain. Now though, four months past the one-year anniversary of that day, he found himself present in the same city in honour of a different kind of pain.

Seated about the room in classy black folding chairs the 'everyone who was anyone' of the BBA sat together in little clusters, totalling about two hundred members if you didn't include the media. Most were dressed in solid black, clinging quietly to each other as Mr Dickinson polished off the final speech of the memorial service, a moving piece meant to inspire them to struggle forward from what they'd witnessed in Greece and never, ever give up.

If Tyson hadn't gone before him, Ray mused, rounding out his own speech by reading the forward of the book Max had edited together with the help of just about every blader at the Championship level, Mr Dickinson's speech might have been more of a tearjerker. As it was though, everyone had been so drained from the way Tyson had spoken (so raw and lost and determined, so charismatic, and just so much like _Tyson_) that any emotions Mr Dickinson managed to inspire were most likely a remainder from the speech before his.

From the slightly proud smile on the old man's lips Ray thought he'd realized that too and thus was why the Neko didn't feel so bad when he sent a cursory glance about the BBA HQ's ballroom, trying to seek out those who he knew and check in on how they were reacting to the service.

Altogether, it seemed that most of the 'classic' teams had decided to come. Others – like the newbie teams that had only shown up that year – had apparently decided that the public memorial service back in Greece had been enough and left it at that. Out of those classic teams – the All-stars, The Battalion and the like – only the White Tigers weren't present, not that Ray much minded. The three remaining members of the White Tigers had become outcasts in blading society some time ago and had decided to finally take their new place with some form a grace, having slunk off sometime after the Greek service back to the White Tiger Hills. He'd heard rumours that they'd dropped out of the Bey-Blade Association completely, throwing the Chinese chapter of the BBA into a panic to find a new team to represent them.

Mariah, he was pleased to note, was there despite having only returned to the waking world a couple weeks ago. During his last conversation with her she'd made it clear she'd be coming, seeing as she'd been comatose during the memorial in Greece, but Emily had informed him when Mariah had been out of earshot that the doctors hadn't been sure if it was possible.

Apparently no one had informed them just how determined Mariah could be, nor how surprising she'd become.

Then again, they had all forgotten how surprising she was, Ray thought with a small, pleased smile as he cast an assessing glance over the girl he was slowly, slowly coming to think of as a little sister once again.

Pale and thin though she was, with clear dark circles under each amber eye and sharply defined cheek bones, Mariah was still one of the most attention-drawing figures in the room, as the fashion magazines were sure to mention. She was dressed formally and femininely in a gauzy black dress that fell to her knees, a black sash around her waist and a modest scooped neckline providing the perfect splash of skin for her white pearls to rest against. She wore suede flats, also in a mournful black, as her body wasn't quite strong enough to negotiate heel yet with nylons and a lacy black pullover. Beside her Emily wore the lower half of fitted black pant suit with an equally black blouse, her hair a shock of wild colour whereas Mariah's seemed perfectly choreographed into solemnity despite its pink hue.

They couldn't have made a more unexpected pair but Ray liked to think they complimented each other, Emily with her stony, technical capability and Mariah with her flickering ferocity.

No questions had been asked about their relationship, everyone too wrapped up in their own grief and loss to give them much notice, but one or two of the more astute articles printed as of recent had mentioned that the two had been seen often together, both at the party Tyson had thrown in honour of Max getting a book deal (which had involved much of Max blushing and insisting that it was really _everyone_ getting a book deal, as it couldn't have been done without their stories) as well just in daily life.

Ray had noticed their relationship through smaller instances, though. He'd noticed in that whenever he'd gone to stop by Mariah's hospital room during her coma, there had always been fresh flowers, ones that were very much different from the tiger lilies Ray brought. He noticed because when Mariah had woken up, Emily had called him, not the hospital. He'd noticed because sometimes, when he phoned Mariah at her new penthouse in Upper-Beycity, Emily picked up instead.

He didn't ask though. Not when Emily continued to pick up the phone long after most of the other All-stars had gone back to New York, nor when it became clear that the two girls had a habit of holding hands when they walked. Ray didn't ask because he knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of those questions and he knew the damage they could do to budding feelings.

So no, Ray didn't ask, he just smiled. And if he noticed that Emily had a little of Mariah's Passion Pink lipstick on her cheek, or that Mariah had taken to wearing a pearl necklace remarkably similar to the one Emily had around her neck during the reunion dance, then who was he to point it out?

No one; was the answer.

Across the room Ray spotted Tala, the crimson-haired blader's head resting delicately on the strong shoulder of Rick Anderson, in what had to be the most shocking pair up of the year. If not for the tragedy of a terrorist bombing Ray was sure that Rick and Tala would have been the centre of the media's interest, if only for the fuck-less way they seemed to care for how the world saw them.

There had been no announcement, no conference; they'd simply shown up together at the Greek memorial service, hands locked together against the glares some of the All-stars had been dishing out as well as the camera flashes of the media vultures, who until that point had only heard rumours of some kind of fight happening outside Rick's hospital room that may or may not have included something of a romantic nature.

Since then it was almost like they'd made a point of doing every possible 'couple' thing together, while at the same time not giving any definitive answers. They went clubbing, they trained together, they showed up at beyblade community events together; but the media would be damned if they could get an interview out of the pair. It was hilarious to most, slightly irritating to the All-stars (who Ray suspected Rick hadn't talked to since Greece), and, surprisingly, left Bryan smirking in a similarly smug way to the couple in question.

When it had become somewhat common knowledge among bladers that Tala and Rick were together; Spencer, Ian, Kai, and Ray (the last two having only returned the day before from their island get away) had all taken a special kind of care when it came to informing Bryan, as they had all been sure he was going to flip his shit even after having made if perfectly clear he and Tala were through.

Imagine their surprise when all they had gotten in return for their caution was a shit-eating grin and a roundabout insult to their intelligence; as though Tala and Rick were so _obviously_ together and how did they not notice sooner?

Bryan had disappeared some time later, leaving just a vague note about going to go see somebody in Germany, which had been seemingly random enough that even Kai had been left blinking in confusion. Spencer, on the other hand, had merely chuckled his deep, rumbling laugh and told them not to worry.

Seeing as Spencer was the most responsible out of all of them, Ray and the others had decided to let it go, though that didn't mean Kai hadn't muscled the airline into confirming that one Bryan Kuznetsov was indeed in Germany and had left the airport in a sleek, black car to places unknown.

Ray had managed to convince the supposed Ice Prince of beyblade to leave it after that, something deep down telling him that Bryan wouldn't exactly appreciate their meddling if they went any further.

And speaking of people meddling, Ray couldn't help but smile as Tyson's father wrapped a strong arm around his son. Even though Tyson had protested long and loud about needing his brother, grandfather _and_ father to come and stay with him and Max during the memorial service in Greece, all three older Grangers had arrived the first flight available along with Max's dad. From what was later reported by a softly smiling Max when he and Ray met up for lunch a few weeks ago, the ensuing reunion had been quite emotional, as had the next couple of days.

Apparently a bomb was what it had taken for the older three Grangers to really see how delicate Tyson was right now. From the teary look in Bruce's eyes, Tyson's speech might have really driven the point home.

It was just a shame that the same couldn't be said for Judy Tate. While her Ex had barely left Max's side since they'd met up in Greece, Ray had yet to see or hear anything about her coming to see her son. As far Ray knew she was back in New York doing something with the PPB.

At least Max had his father and Tyson, and by association Tyson's family, who had seemed to adopt the blonde. Maxie was currently living with Tyson at the dojo, if the pair were to be believed.

Ray was softly nudged from his reverie by a change in altitude, the service having apparently come to a close during his analysis of his fellow bladers. Smiling at his boyfriend –

No.

Not boyfriend, Ray thought, grin growing in size as he caught a glace out of the corner of his eye at the dark band around his finger. Not any longer.

Ray didn't think he'd ever been as shocked as when his usually proud, composed Kai had gotten down on one knee, stuttering and blushing as he fished for the right words. Ray would have tackled him in his excitement if it hadn't been for the other's injury. As it was, he'd simply kissed the other silly and that was that.

Smiling at his _fiancé_, Ray let himself be led from his seat and into the BBA HQ's foyer, where several other World Championship bladers had gathered together, speaking softly together in their little groupings that suddenly got bigger as each group joined another, until they were one big patchwork gathering of friends.

"Ray, Kai!" Tyson cried from somewhere in the middle of the crowd, struggling free of the press of bodies with Max in tow.

"We're all heading down to the new sushi place to go test it out, you guys down for it?" the bluenette asked excitably, his eyes decidedly less haunted than when Ray had seen him last. Max was a couple steps behind him and grinning just as eagerly.

Kai gave his patent eye roll and 'hn', but that just seemed to egg the pair on and with decidedly less begging on Tyson and Max's part than it might have taken a few years ago Ray and Kai found themselves swept up in the crowd of bladers, all of them eager to do something that wasn't so dark to help commemorate those they'd lost.

Because while it was good to remember and mourn, the only way to move on was to recognize that the world had not stopped, that their lives, while perhaps stained with another layer of darkness, were not over. That there was still good in the world to be fought for and found, and you just had to go outside your grief and chase it down.

And, watching as Tyson and Max charged ahead down the street, followed swiftly by such teams as the Battalion, F Dynasty, a couple members of the Majestics and so on, followed by Rick and Tala at a more sedate pace with the rest of the Championship teams and Hilary calling after them to slow down, Ray couldn't think of a better place to start looking for that goodness.

The tiger's eye ring on his finger, the stone shining like the smug eyes of a black cat, and the steady hold of Kai's hand on his helped tremendously with that feeling.

**And so ends Black Cat, a story I personally thought I was never going to finished until I was old and grey! But I finished it, yay!**

**Thanks to everyone who's stuck around this long as well as my brilliant beta, KedakaiOkami, who awesomely made this story legible! **

**(Also, for those of you wondering why the hell Bryan is in Germany, it's a very subtle hint at a very, very underappreciated pairing. Have fun figuring it out!)**

**Please Review!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666 **


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